


Childermass and Sir

by AlexSimon



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSimon/pseuds/AlexSimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Segundus is hired to take on the most difficult class at a very upscale school.  Luckily, he has help from Mr Childermass, a seasoned TA who shows him the ropes.<br/>Arabella Strange is an newly married art teacher with a rich, directionless husband who finds a very unusual calling indeed.<br/>Gilbert Norrell is the school librarian who does more than just study the books of magic at the school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foxcastle Makes a New Hire

**Author's Note:**

> Over the summer, I had a dream where Childermass was a teacher's assistant in a posh school. I have always wanted to turn that into a story where he works with Segundus, but have been reluctant as I am American and know nothing of the English school system not gleaned from TV and movies. I recently decided to challenge myself and give the thing a go.  
> This is going to need a lot of fleshing out as I continue, so I appreciate any feedback.

The weather had turned toward hot at the second week of August. Very hot. 

John Segundus smoothed out the wrinkles his CV had developed as he held it in his sweaty hand on the bus ride to his interview. 

He was dressed in his nicest clothes, which were not, truthfully, as nice as he could have wished them to be when applying for a job. Thankfully, he had long ago learned to sew and all the buttons were firmly in place, all the hems neat, and every hole invisibly mended. Mrs Pleasance had proved a wonder on bringing life back into his suit and he thought that although he might not look as nice as as some of the applicants for the position that he looked as well he could. 

Segundus looked at his directions and then at a passing street sign. 

There was an older woman sitting next to him who noticed his confusion and obvious newness to the area and gave the sleeve of his jacket a tug. 

"Where are you going, dearie?" she asked.

He held out the paper and she shuffled her large bag of groceries and knitting to take it. 

"Oh, two stops, then." 

"Thank you very much!" said Segundus. 

She had noticed his dress and the carefully clutched CV and wished him good luck as he stood. 

The school was a long walk from the bus stop. The directions he had written down suggested a route that he began to follow as soon as he had found it. 

It was early afternoon and John Segundus felt his face getting red in the sun and the back of his neck began to sweat. He wondered if it would have been better to cut his hair before the interview, but it was so expensive to have it done nicely and only last week Mrs Pleasance had told him that he was looking very handsome and complimented his hair specifically. Segundus was not normally vain, but after hearing that he had been so flattered that had been a little hard to consider a trip to have his hair cut. 

When he finally arrived at the place, Segundus was feeling cooked inside of his suit. He looked down at his CV regretfully as he approached and saw that it was now damp and creased. The school he arrived at was far nicer than the one he had attended and he had a chance to stop and catch his breath on the grounds before approaching the door in the shade of large tree.

He was shown into the building and to the headmaster's office by a young woman in a blue dress who had him wait in a seat outside until he was called. 

"Remind you of your school days, then?" she asked him with a smile as he sat. "Waiting outside the headmaster's office." 

"Oh," said Segundus. He attempted a little laugh. "Of course. Just like school."

John Segundus had never been to the headmaster's office at school except for visits with his parents about how quiet he was and how he should make more of an effort with the other students at lunch time instead of a reading a book by himself.

He was brought a glass of water by the girl in the blue dress and as soon as she had disappeared, he gulped the whole thing down. 

Segundus was much cooler and more comfortable several minutes later when the young woman came back to tell him that Dr. Foxcastle would see him now. 

He entered a spacious office filled sunlight and old, heavy furniture trying to soak it in. The headmaster, siting behind his desk, was a larger gentleman who perhaps had not bought new clothes since he was a thinner man and especially at the middle appeared stuffed into clothes. 

"Ah, Mr Segundus," he said. "Please, sit down. Would you like something to drink?" 

"No thank you, sir," said Segundus. "Miss-" 

"Clover."

"Miss Clover already got me some much needed water. It's a very hot day." 

"That it is!" said Foxcaslte. He swiveled as much as he could being so tightly ensconced in his chair to address Miss Clover. "Please get Childermass, would you?" 

Segundus gave the young woman a smile as she slipped out and turned his attentions back to the now woefully untidy paper in his hand. 

"Thank you for seeing me, sir. I was very surprised to hear from you so suddenly, if I'm honest." 

"Well, John," said Foxcastle. "Can I call you John?"

"It is my name."

"John, if I'm honest in return, we're in a bind. A large one. You'll be happy to know that you have the job if you want it." 

"Oh. Already? But we haven't spoken." He held up his CV. "You haven't even looked at my qualifications."

"You did send a copy some months ago." 

"I did. Yes, I did." 

Foxcastle leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his middle. 

"We're happy to have you, son. Very happy. There was just one concern when I looked over your materials." 

"What was that? I know I don't have much experience-" 

"Magic." 

Segundus could feel a blush beginning to heat his ears and cheeks, which he feared were already a little sunburned. 

"John. You're a smart man. But I looked up some of things you've written about magic. We don't hold with that sort of thing here, the sorts of questions you’ve been asking and things you’ve been speculating. You understand." 

"Yes, sir. Of course." 

"This class you'll be taking for us is...well, John, they're feisty. They'll need a firm hand. Their parents won't like knowing of any rouge course of study either. Truthfully, son, not a one of them is interested in school or magical studies at all. Or much else really outside of sneaking cigarettes and how their clothes look. You won't earn any points being overenthusiastic with them." 

Segundus nodded. Before he had time to assure the headmaster that he would gladly follow any school rules on curriculum, there was a knock on the door then and Miss Clover peeked her head in. 

"Mr Childermass, sir." 

Foxcastle waved and the woman opened the door and stood aside to allow entrance to a tall dark haired man with a thick layer of stubble growing on his face. Segundus could not help but notice that this man's clothes, a pair of grey trousers and buttoned down shirt with jacket, were even older than his own, but also very well maintained.

"Childermass!" said Foxcastle. "John, meet John." He grinned to himself and chuckled a little. "Oh, that's funny!" 

"It's a common name," said the tall man named Childermass dryly. 

"So it is, Childermass. So it is. This is Segundus. He's joining us from today. Joining you, more specifically."

Segundus have a subtle wave to his new coworker, but realized as he did that Childermass did not look like the kind of man to wave and lowered his hand.

"Segundus, Childermass has been with this class for several years as an assistant. Or warden, if you will. Haha! He's seen three teachers come and go. Isn't that right Childermass?"

"It is," he said. Segundus noticed then that Childermass had a pronounced Northern accent. It fit well with the look he had cultivated or that had developed around him, whichever it was. 

"Childermass will show you around today. You can move in to your room next week, but we'll need you back tomorrow for all the forms and things." 

Foxcastle wriggled from his chair and stood. Segundus followed suit and shook the outstretched hand the headmaster offered him. 

"Welcome!" He said. He winked at Segundus. "Just remember what we talked about and you'll do well."

"Yes, sir." 

Segundus turned Childermass, who was waiting quietly in the same space he had been in since arriving. 

"Shall we go, then?" 

Childermass nodded and led Segundus from the room out into a dim hallway. 

"I'll introduce you around and show you the classroom today," he said as they walked. 

"Oh, wonderful! Thank you!" 

"Hardly anyone is here at the moment, but you can meet Norrell and Mrs. Strange, I think. She just returned from her honeymoon yesterday and I saw her with her husband this morning in her room setting up." 

Childermass had very long legs and Segundus struggled a bit to keep up with him, even though his pace was leisurely. 

"Oh, that's a bit of an unfortunate name for a young lady teacher. Strange. Won't the boys tease her?

"She's tougher than to be bothered by things like that," said Childermass. "Besides, it's an improvement over her name before she was married. The ruder boys had a lot fun with Woodhope, I can tell you." 

The men named John arrived at an open door to a classroom and Childermas gave a knock. 

"Come in," said a woman's voice. 

Inside the classroom, a pretty dark haired young woman was sitting on the floor in front of a box of small jars of paints, many of which had crusty edges. The room was hung with amateur artwork and easels were interspersed throughout the room.

"Oh hello, John!' she said when she saw Childermass. “Good summer, then?" 

"I didn't get married, but it was fine." 

Mrs Strange gave a tug at one of the paint jars and when it did not budge open, she set it aside with a sigh. 

"We were gone a week too long, Jonathan," she said to a general space behind her. "My things have gotten old." 

It was just then that Segundus noticed another man in the room, standing on a ladder and removing some of the drawings that were hung on higher places on the wall. He was tall and had abundant hair pushed back from his face. 

"We can replace the paint, Bell,” said the handsome man on the ladder. "We cannot have another honeymoon." 

The man who must be Mr Strange climbed down from the ladder with an armful of papers. 

"Oh, hello," he said to John and John. "Childermass, still here then?"

"I'm reliable like that."

Strange assessed Segunuds with an absentminded blink and then looked back to Childermass.

"This is the new teacher they got for your class?" 

Segundus felt then that the room had stopped to look at him. He had only just realized that he was still fervently clinging to his CV like a child with a blanket. 

"Yes," said Childermass. "John Segundus." 

"Well, this is getting out of hand!" laughed Mrs Strange. "The school is simply not allowed to hire anyone else named John!" 

"And faculty should avoid marrying men with the name, too?" asked Childermass.

Mrs Strange laughed again. 

"Well, that's already done." She smiled up at Segundus. "Nice to have you, John. Don't let the boys scare you. There are a few that are the ringleaders, but most aren't bad." 

Segundus nodded as though he was reassured, when in fact he was anything but. 

John and John took their leave of the Stranges and walked back into the hallway. Childermass headed toward some stairs. 

"These boys?" asked Segundus when they were alone again. 

Childermass rolled his eyes. 

"Not to worry. The worst is Lascelles. He was much easier to handle when he was younger and smaller and scared of the bigger students. He grew quickly over the last few years and now he’s tall and has a crowd and a henchman."

"Oh. A henchman." 

"Drawlight is not much of a henchman." 

Segundus did not have a chance to ask who Drawlight was or why he was a bad henchman, because John and John had stopped at a set of heavy doors. 

"Where are we now?" 

"Library," said Childermass. "There is no chance of Norrell not being here, but the question is if he'll let us in."


	2. What Was Left on the Chalkboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childermass finishes Segundus' introduction to the school. Mrs Pleasance is proud. New friends are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who has helped give me a crash course in the English school system.

Childermass knocked on the door to the library for much longer than Segundus would have thought polite. 

"Maybe he's not there after all?" suggested Segundus. 

"No," said Childermass. "He's here. Norrell! Mr Norrell, it's just me." 

There was a shuffling noise inside and then the door was opened. In front of them stood a short gentleman at the end of his middle years wearing a small pair of glasses and an anxious expression on his face. His shoulders were visibly tensed and he clutched an open book to his chest at the page where he had been reading. 

"Afternoon, Mr Norrell," said Childermass. 

"Childermass." 

The man named Norrell looked over at Segundus and blinked in a surprised, feline way.

"Who is this?" 

"New teacher," said Childermass. "John Segundus." 

"Nice to meet you, Mr Norrell," said Segundus. 

Mr Norrell said nothing in return, resulting in a silence that Segundus sought desperately to fill, so he stuck his hand out rather quickly in Norrell's direction. He left it there for several awkward seconds before realizing that Norrell was not going to loosen his hold on the book at his chest and dropped it. 

"Norrell is pleased to meet you, too, Segundus," said Chidlermass. "He's just distracted because he wants to get back to his reading. We had a very productive summer and found some new materials for the library that he’s been taking stock of." 

The look on Norrell's face suggested that this had somehow been a secret between him and Childermass and not a matter of school records and accounts. It was a few seconds before the first part of Childermass's comment sunk in. 

"Good to meet you, Segundus," Norrell muttered as though he was reading something written on a piece of paper that he had only just seen, possibly something written in a foreign language. "I have to get back to work."

Childermass nodded at him in a wordless parting and the man skittered back behind the door to the library, which closed in the faces of the two men named John. 

"Well," said Childermass. "That's Norrell, more or less." 

He started walking away from the library back down the stairs and Segundus scampered after. 

"You said we," said Segundus. "You said that we had a productive summer." 

"Oh. Yes." 

Childermass scratched at the stubble on his face while he thought. 

"I help with lots of things around the school," he finally said just as they stopped again. "This is our classroom." 

He reached into his pockets for a set of keys and opened the door. 

There were several rows of old wooden desks lined up in the room, each with a slightly battered looking chair sitting on top. A larger desk sat at the front of the room, in front of a very well used chalk board. Cupboards lining the room were half filled with copies of text books. 

"A bit old fashioned," said Childermass. "But really, that's what the parents pay for." 

Segundus stepped into the room. The chalkboard had been erased but not washed yet and some faint traces of the last lesson taught were still faintly visible on it, the names of prominent English magicians in ghost letters caught in the sunlight. He could easily see himself here, in just a few a weeks’ time, standing at this board in front his class teaching about his passion and he got a bit a lost in the image, which was a very happy one for him. 

Segundus caught himself the moment before he said "Oh my" out loud. He had a feeling that sentimentality would not endear him much to John Childermass and wanted to make a good impression on the man he would be working so closely with. Instead, he nodded at many things in turn, hoping he didn't seem too eager. 

"Does it suit you, Mr Segundus?" 

"Of course. Very much." 

"You'll have some time before the students arrive to make a list of things you need for the start of class. I can help, if you want." 

"Oh, I'm sure you know better than I do what we’ll need. You can tell me what you think is best." 

Childermass, who was leaning against the doorway watching Segundus raised an eyebrow. 

"That's not quite how things work here." 

Segundus hardly caught what he said as he had become busy studying the titles of the books he had to work from. 

"Thank you very much for your help today," he said to Childermass once he remembered himself. "It’s been extremely kind of you." 

There was a pause before Childermass responded. 

"You're welcome. But thanks aren't necessary. I'm here and this is my job." 

Childermass noticed that Segundus was hardly listening again and instead was looking around the room in a half-hearted search of something and guessed that he wanted a pen. He produced one from his pocket and handed it to Segundus, who quickly busied himself writing down the titles of the books he would soon be using every day to teach and writing notes as he flipped through some. 

Segundus was surprised to see how much of the afternoon had passed since he had arrived at the school and made a quick apology to Childermass for taking up so much of his time. For a moment, he thought that he had said something that Childermass found amusing, but then the expression vanished before he had an opportunity to comment on it. They left the room and Childermass locked the door behind them. 

John and John walked in silence back to the front of the school. John Segundus was thinking of his room, or their room, and the lessons he would teach the first week in class and all he would need to do to get ready. His mind was happily cluttered with many ideas that were multiplying rapidly. 

As they approached the door, Miss Clover emerged from her office, the slight heels on her shoes giving chattering taps on the floor as she walked up.

"Mr Segundus! I'm glad I caught you. Dr Foxcastle wants to know if 9:00 tomorrow morning works for you to come back and sign all your forms." 

"Yes, that works very well, thank you." 

Miss Clover smiled broadly at Segundus and he thanked her and Childermass again for good measure and then left his new place of employment to find the route back to his bus stop. 

At home, Mrs Pleasance was ecstatic to hear her tenant's good news and while he changed out his sweaty clothes, she went to the store to buy things for a celebration dinner that he insisted was not necessary at all and she insisted was. 

Segundus decided on a quick shower as well and by the time Mrs Pleasance returned with the groceries, which he was embarrassed to see was every single one of his favorite foods, he was feeling refreshed again and much cooler in the jeans and tee shirt he had changed into. He helped Mrs Pleasance cook their dinner, warding off a stream of protests that he should sit down and rest after his long day. 

They ate together and Segundus told her about the interview and the people had had met at the school. Foxcastle made her roll her eyes a bit, but she seemed to like what she heard of pleasant Mrs Strange and Miss Clover with all her smiles.

"Do you think you'll like working with this Childermass person?" asked Mrs Pleasance. She had not made her up mind about giving up her favorite tenant to work with this man day after day. 

"I'm sure I will. I think we're very different, but he's been at the school a long time. He must be good at his job." 

"You don't let anyone be unkind to you, John," said Mrs Pleasance. "If they are, you quit and come back here. I don't care who's in your room. If you need it, it's there for you." 

Segundus nearly dropped his fork. He had only just realized that he would now need to move from Mrs Pleasance's comfortable house. 

"Oh, Mrs Pleasance, I've made a mess of things for you, haven't I? You'll have to find someone for my room at short notice." 

"No worries, John. No worries. This is good for you and I'm very happy."

After dinner, Mrs Pleasance insisted on cleaning up while Segundus went back to his room and began to jot down questions he had for the next day. He tried to sleep early but was too excited and tossed around in his bed for a long time until he got up. He went to the living room of Mrs Pleasance's apartment and sat with his notebook making outlines of lessons until he fell asleep on the couch.

John Segundus woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sound of the television, which had been turned on a very low volume and was showing the news. 

"Ah, there you are!" said Mrs Pleasance when she saw that he had opened his eyes. "Time to wake up. You should change and eat breakfast so that you don't miss your bus." 

Segundus rushed to his room, where he put on his smartest trousers and collared shirt with a tie. He brushed his hair and teeth and splashed water on his face. Segundus ate quickly and managed half a cup of tea before it was time to go. There was hardly even any opportunity for him to tell his land lady that she had gone to too much trouble making this large breakfast and that she had gotten up too early, or enough time for all the thanks he felt were required for waking him. Mrs Pleasance tutted to stop him, proclaiming Segundus more than suitable for his first day of work and giving his cheek a motherly peck. 

"I will miss you, John," she said. "Don't fret it about it, now. But I will miss you very much." 

Segundus took the bus back to the school and the walk from the stop seemed easier and shorter this time, and much cooler in the morning. His spirits were very high and despite a fairly poor night's sleep, he did not feel tired. 

When he entered the school, Miss Clover again arrived from her office to ask him to wait there, if he could. The head of his year had come in today and wanted to meet him. She went back to her desk and through the window; Segundus watched her make a phone call. She poked her head out of the office to ask him to wait one more moment please, if he didn’t mind. 

“He’s on his way now,” Miss Clover assured Segundus. 

Soon after, a tall man with grey hair rounded the corner and approached Segundus with a smile and an outstretched hand. 

"Hello," he said so warmly that Segundus was instantly at ease. "Very nice to meet you. I'm Honeyfoot."


	3. Watermarks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honeyfoot takes the new hire under his wing, is the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a long time to write because I insisted on finding a middle name for Segundus.  
> Also, this story is a major WIP. I am still figuring out how all this is going to fit together. I don't even have a name for this school yet.   
> Someone help me find a name for this school!

Honeyfoot walked Segundus to his office, which was as different from Foxcastle's as could be; modest and decorated primarily with pictures of a pretty, friendly looking blonde woman and three younger women whom Segundus assumed to be his daughters. His shelves were full of books and his desk was cluttered already with papers. The warm feeling Segundus got from him at their initial meeting continued as Honeyfoot spoke after offering him a seat. 

"I can't tell you how happy I was when I heard that Foxcastle had decided on you for the position," said Honeyfoot. "I lobbied for you each time we had a meeting about which candidate to choose. Foxcastle thought you might be a bit of a trouble maker, but I told him that you only thought the way all ought to be thinking." 

As always when presented with compliments, especially ones as genuine and enthusiastic as Honeyfoot's, Segundus briefly lost the ability to do much more than blink and fight off a blush. He was also extremely nervous to hear that people had been talking about him and his achievements and that one of them had been attempting to get him the job he had now. To distract himself, he stared just behind Honeyfoot to a frame picture of his family at a recent Christmas hung behind him on the wall. 

Honeyfoot rummaged in his desk for a moment and Segundus was mortified to see that he pulled out a copy of an article he had written the year before. It was marked, to his great embarrassment, with what appeared to be notes of agreement accompanied by many exclamation points and passages underlined. Notes filled the margin and it had obviously been read more than once. Honeyfoot tapped the paper with a finger a few times and nodded. 

"This. This is what I think we need more of here, if you ask me."

Honeyfoot looked up from the paper and it to its author, who stared at it in his hands like it might be causing him physical pain. 

"I would enjoy very much talking with you about your ideas and your work sometime." 

"Of course," said Segundus, because some answer was required and that was the only one he thought appropriate for the man who was his new supervisor, even though he didn't think his work warranted much discussion. 

"I heard you met Childermass yesterday," said Honeyfoot. He put the article back in his desk and Segundus was very relieved to no longer be looking at a copy of his own writing.  


"Yes," he said. "He was very helpful." 

"And Arabella was here as well, I think?" 

"Mrs Strange? Yes. She was very welcoming. And we also went to the library to meet Mr Norrell, but we didn't go inside." 

"Oh, no surprise there. I am not sure if anyone has ever explained to Norrell that the true job of a librarian is to let the books go and then come back."

Honeyfoot was again looking though his desk and this time, came up with a file folder marked with a year and class, which he handed to Segundus.

"Well, this is your group. Thought I would give you the roster today so you could familiarize yourself with the names before they arrive." 

Segundus scanned the list and near the middle, found the name of the boy that Childermass had mentioned yesterday; Lascelles, Henry. He remembered the name of the other student as well, the one with the very odd name of Drawlight, and found him nearer to the top. 

"What have you heard about the group so far?" asked Honeyfoot. 

Segundus searched his mind for the most polite thing he could mentioned he had heard about the boys he would soon be teaching and looked up at the ceiling as he began speaking. 

"Mrs Strange said that they're basically good with one or two trouble makers. Nothing unusual there. My classes at school were always the same." 

"And Childermass? What did he say?" 

"That...um...Well, that one student, Lascelles, had become a bit of a problem recently and that another student was sort of a...well, a henchman." 

Honeyfoot shook his head and for the first time, he frowned. 

"Drawlight. Christopher is very impressionable and he’s chosen a crowd that brings out the worst in him, I think. And I dare say he's grateful for any sort of attention or friendship.”

Honeyfoot's frown deepened. 

"But, I shouldn't be influencing you like this before you've even met the boy. Just know that some people don't like him because his mother used to have Miss Clover's job and send him here on discount before she remarried. There may be plenty of reasons to dislike Christopher Drawlight, but that should not be one of them." 

"Oh, I agree," said Segundus. He thought back on his own days as a student in a school his parents couldn't really afford; uniforms often a little too big or too small depending how far into the school year he was and much he had grown since they were bought, the special care taken to always keep them neat and never play too rough. Not that he had ever been tempted on that end, as he was happy to do his homework during the breaks. 

"Well, you have a lot to do today, so I will let you to it," said Honeyfoot. Segundus stood and followed him to the door of his office. Before he opened it, he paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Segundus. 

"We must talk about your most important question," said Honeyfoot. For a moment, despite his age, he looked very much like a schoolboy with a secret. "The one at the core of your ideas, if I may say so." 

Segundus knew which one he meant, but it was a question that he had been often rebuked or ridiculed for asking in his small body of work and was shy to speak of it.  
"Why?" asked Honeyfoot. "Why is there no more magic done in England? Just wonderful!" 

"Thank you," Segundus mumbled as he left. "I'm glad you think so." 

Segundus took the roster with the names of the students, his students, with him back to Miss Clover's office, where she had a stack of paperwork ready for him sign. He couldn't help but feel proud as his name and initials and birth date filled up the paperwork that carried the fancy school crest in watermark under everything. She offered him tea and smiled at him as he she took her phone calls and sometimes went back and forth to the room where the student records were kept. Segundus noticed when he looked up and caught her smiling at him from time to time that she was actually younger than he had at first thought she was, much closer to twenty than thirty. 

She made copies of his papers to put away and glanced at them before handing them back. 

“Oh, Ellison. What a lovely middle name,” she said. “And you can’t be as old as that! You look like you could be some of the boys’ big brothers.” 

Segundus doubted that would be much of an advantage.

He also got a set of keys to the small apartment at the end of a long hall of student dorms that would be his now. In reality, it wasn't much larger at all than the room he had with Mrs Pleasance, but there was a small stove and table with a chair in one corner and a tiny bathroom as well. There were plain, faded curtains on the windows and a few shelves for his things on the walls. It was the first place that he had ever had all to his own and he took care to inspect it alone when Miss Clover was gone to just savor how it looked.  


He was admiring his view from the window, from which he could see a fountain with a figure in the middle so rubbed down by whether and crumbled that its original shape was indistinguishable, when he heard a light knock on the door he had left open. He turned around and Childermass was in the doorway.

"Oh, hello," Segundus said. "Nice to see you again." 

Childermass nodded. Segundus had decided that this man was not cold, but he was certainly not one for excessive pleasantries. He motioned that Childermass was welcome to come in and he took a few steps inside. 

"Mrs Strange wanted me to let you know if I saw you today that she's sorry for her husband, if he was rude by accident. She was worried he had come off a bit distracted when you met yesterday." 

"I hadn't noticed, really," said Segundus. "And I wasn't offended." 

"I didn't think so," said Childermass. "But I told her I would pass it on. She thought you were a very nice young man." 

Segundus wasn't sure that by the way he conveyed her words that Childermass and Mrs Strange thought that being a nice young man was quite the same level of compliment. 

"They don't live here, do they?" asked Segundus. 

"The Stranges? No. They live in town. They have a house there." 

Segundus was on the verge of asking what Mr Strange did when Childermass spoke again. 

"I heard Foxcastle talking yesterday after you left, and I saw Honeyfoot this morning. I wasn't aware you had published. Or what you had written. I looked you up after Honeyfoot and I spoke-"

Segundus nearly covered his face with his hands in embarrassment to hear that someone had taken the time to search for information on him. What he did instead he thought was nearly as bad. 

"Please don't say that!" he blurted out before he could help himself and then felt worse for having interrupted Childermass in such a way. "Sorry. It's just, I've gotten some bad responses to some of my ideas in the past. I'm a little embarrassed to talk about my work and a lot of people want to talk about it all of the sudden." 

The corner of Childermass' lips lifted in what was nearly a smile. 

"Honeyfoot was very happy to have you, but you make Foxcastle a bit nervous, from what I can gather." 

"I know." Segundus sat down on his new bed. "It's not a good start to the job, I think." 

Childermass shrugged and reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. 

"Don't worry about it too much. Lots of things make Foxcastle nervous. I'm going outside, if you'd like to join me." 

"No, but thank you. I don't smoke."

Somehow, John Childermass conveyed with one partially raised eyebrow as he turned to leave that said he thought as much. 

"Well, goodbye then, Mr Segundus." 

John Segundus wondered how long it would be before he became entirely comfortable being referred to like that.

 

That night, Segundus returned to Mrs Pleasance's house and after dinner, went to his room to begin packing. 

On his bed was a box and when he opened it, there was a new suit inside, one made of a dark grey fabric with a white shirt and a blue tie to go with it. 

He went downstairs with it and tried to tell Mrs Pleasance that she must return it, but she said that she would do so such thing. 

"Go tomorrow to the tailor. You'll look very nice in that, I think." 

He frowned at the suit folded so nicely in the box and thought that he did like it a lot and it would be a good thing to have on his first days of work. 

"I'll pay you back after my first paycheck."

"If you do that, you'll hurt my feelings," said Mrs Pleasance, because she knew there was no other way to convince him to accept. 

It worked as she had thought and Segundus returned back upstairs with box, still reluctant, and hung the suit where it would not wrinkle. He spent the evening putting his things in boxes he had gotten on the way home and stayed up too late thinking of the good fortune that had led him to this job and beginning to say goodbye to a place that had felt very like home to him.


	4. Not Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Segundus moves in and gets started with his new job.

Segundus meant to wake up early, but accidentally left his phone with his alarm downstairs the evening before, something which he realized when there was a knock at his door in the morning that turned out to be Mrs Pleasance bringing it to him with her hand covering the mouthpiece. 

"Found this on the coffee table in the living room," she said. "Rang a few times; thought I'd bring it up to you." 

Segundus took the phone, still not fully awake, and was surprised to find that it was Mr Honeyfoot. 

"Hello, John. Hope you don't mind that I got your number from A.J." 

"A.J.?" asked Segundus. 

"A.J. Clover. Has she not introduced herself properly yet?"

"I guess not." 

“Odd. She’s normally not shy.”

Segundus sat up in bed then, disappointed when he pulled the phone away for a moment to see that it was after 10:00. He pushed back the blankets and got out of bed, putting the phone back to his hear in time to hear the end of Honeyfoot’s next sentence. 

"- heard you don't have a car," he said. "And I was wondering if you'd like some help getting your things to the school on Monday." 

Segundus followed his initial instinct to tell Honeyfoot not to worry, that it wasn't necessary, but when Honeyfoot, as tactfully as possible, wondered how else he was going to move his things and if he had other plans, Segundus was forced to at least consider the offer. 

"It won't be a problem at all," Honeyfoot said. "And it's not like you can really use the bus to move, now can you?"

Segundus admitted reluctantly that he could not. He knew Mrs Pleasance would help if she could, but she could not afford a car any more than Segundus could, though she at least did know how to drive, while he did not. 

"Well," said Honeyfoot. "What about it? 9:00?" 

"Okay then, as long as it's not too much trouble, really. Thank you.” 

When he hung up, he heard Mrs Pleasance call from out in the hallway. 

"I like that Mr Honeyfoot," 

 

Monday morning, they day he moved out of Mrs Pleasance’s, Segundus was up by 6:00 and putting the last of his things away as the sun finished rising. His old room was soon completely emptied of all of his belongings and the bed striped. He tried to be as quiet as he could as he got ready to leave, but after his shower, he head Mrs Pleasance in the kitchen. 

When he went down to apologize for being loud and waking her, she said that there was no way he would have his last morning in her house without a farewell breakfast. 

"At least I know they'll feed you well at that school," she said as she tried to slip another spoonful of eggs onto his plate. "Though, who will make sure you actually eat, I don't know." 

There was still some of the breakfast left over when Mr Honeyfoot arrived later in the morning and before they could begin to take Segundus’ things to the car, he was sat down at the table with a plate and a mug of tea and thanked for taking care of Segundus for her. My Honeyfoot did not seem to mind and they chatted while he ate as though they had known each other for a long time. 

Segundus did not have much to take with him, so it was only a few trips before all his things were in Honeyfoot's sturdy, well used car. He waited in the front seat while Segundus ran back inside to say goodbye to his landlady. 

"I'm close enough by," he said. "Maybe I can come for dinner on the weekend sometimes."

"I'd like that," said Mrs Pleasance. "But you focus on your work, John. And don't keep that nice Mr Honeyfoot waiting." 

She pulled him into a quick hug before shooing him off to leave for his new job. Segundus felt very young being driven to a new job and despite Mr Honeyfoot's easygoing nature, he was still unsure how to behave in such a casual context with his new work supervisor and ended up sitting quietly, looking out the window. 

"She's a sweet woman, your aunt," said Honeyfoot after several minutes of listening to the news on the talk channel on the car radio. 

"My aunt? No, Mrs Pleasance is my landlady. Or, was, I guess. I've lived- I lived- with her for over a year. She's been very nice to me." 

"No family up here, then?" 

"No," said Segundus softly. 

Honeyfoot sensed that Segundus was reluctant to say much more, so he chatted instead about the school as he drove. 

"You'll enjoy living on campus," he said. "I lived there for oh, three years before I met Amanda. The teachers who live at the school are always the boys' favorites, really. They see them a lot more, dinner and breakfast and things, and there are the holidays and weekends. You'll build a real rapport." 

Segundus listened to Honeyfoot cheerfully tell some of his stories from his earlier days teaching until they reached the school. 

It was not quite yet 11:00 yet when they arrived on the grounds. The feeling of autumn had not yet reached out into the mornings and it was warm and sunny still, though a few leaves on the trees had started a reddish blush that hinted the weather would be changing before long. 

Childermass walked around the side of the building as he and Honeyfoot were putting the last of the boxes on the ground and he put his pack of cigarettes in his pockets as he approached the car. 

"Just in time, Childermass!" said Honeyfoot. "Want to help us take these up to John's new place?" 

"No," said Segundus quickly. "No, I'm fine, really. There’s not a lot.” 

Childermass picked up a box anyway and began to walk to the door with it. Segundus grabbed another and hurried after him.

One trip, each man with a box, was nearly enough to get Segundus' things into his new apartment. There was only a small suitcase and backpack left, and the suit Mrs Pleasance had bought him hanging in the back, which he went back for himself. 

Segundus spent the afternoon unfolding and rehanging clothes and setting books on the shelves, along with the picture of his mother and father that he carefully carried with him wherever he went. He made the bed as well, laying out his favorite worn old quilt that he had had since he was a child. 

It didn't take long for him to get settled and by shortly after 1:00, he was done. 

He wasn't sure what to do about lunch and too shy to ask. Segundus thought that he was not nearly hungry enough after his large breakfast to want to eat anyway, so he walked around the school. He passed by Mrs Strange's art classroom, now tidied and ready for the students, but she wasn't there and he did not want to chance going back to the library where the only other faculty he had met was, though he was curious about the new books Childermass had offhandedly mentioned and then treated so mysteriously. 

When he passed her office, Miss Clover, who he now knew liked to go by A.J., waved at him. 

He passed the library on his tour of the school. He was sure he heard voices from inside, but he could not hear what they were saying. 

He had a key to his classroom now so he went there for a while and spent time looking through the books again and trying to decide where he would start teaching next week. 

The sun had moved to a place much farther across the room by the time he had finished going through a history book that he had to admit he wasn't quite sure he agreed wholly with on some points. 

When he left his classroom, Segundus heard laughter coming from down the hall and followed it to the large dining room, now mostly empty but for a table at the front set out with a cold dinner and a handful of other teachers making plates and talking to one another as they came and went. 

A few people introduced themselves to Segundus as he made a plate for himself and he was happy to see that everyone appeared to be very friendly. He had been intending to eat in his room but the atmosphere was so pleasant that he stayed. 

Mr Norrell came in as Segundus was about to leave, followed closely by Childermass. Norrell did not talk to anyone except Childermass, who he whispered to a few times. Their conversation was obviously one carried over from wherever they had been before, and not something Norrell was anxious to discuss anywhere in the vicinity of other people. He noticed Segundus and stared at him for the span of a curious blink before turning to look back at Childermass. There was clearly some question asked and just as clearly, Childermass responded with a glance back to Norrell and a nod almost hidden by his casual movements toward the food. 

They left then, only minutes later, after speaking to no one but each other. 

 

The next day, now that he knew where the food was to be found, Segundus went down for the casual breakfast that the other teachers who lived on the school's campus were taking as they woke. Only few people were sitting down to eat, and the room was much quieter than dinner as the people who came in weren't much for talking this early. Due to the pile of work back in his classroom, Segundus had planned on taking food and leaving, but he ended up sitting next to a tall brown haired man in reverend's collar and plain black shirt that no one else seemed especially interested sitting near, likely because he was the only person currently in a talkative mood. 

It was soon apparent that he was talking to the school's chaplain, who had come on an early visit and that he was, to Segundus' surprise, Mrs Strange's brother. 

"I met your sister the other day," Segundus told him. "And your brother-in-law too. They had just returned from their honeymoon." 

"Can't accuse those two of rushing into things," said Mr Woodhope. “Or at least, not Arabella. “

"What do you mean?"

"Jonathan would have married her years ago, but they went to different colleges, and Bell went abroad to study for a while after she graduated. She was hoping that when she came back, he would be more settled. He tried. He really did!" 

Mr woodhope laughed a joke that Segundus didn't quite get. 

"Anyway, John, I see you have an admirer." 

A.J. Clover had just walked in to get coffee and when she saw Segundus, she stopped and gave a wide smile clearly directed at him. 

"I think she's just being nice," said Segundus. 

Mr Woodhope shrugged. 

"A lot of the boys have a crush on A.J. In my day, when I was here, it was Miss Rose and her ponytail. She was only a few months older than some of us were when she started!" 

Segundus half listened to his story about a pretty black haired woman named Rose while he finished his tea and then began to think of reasons to excuse himself. 

"Of course." Mr Woodhope when he begged off to go make lesson plans. "Don't forget, my sister is a teacher too, I understand!" 

As he left, he got a sympathetic look from a group of three young women teachers sitting together in a tight huddle.

 

Childermass had left a stack of papers on the desk for him. 

It was a pile of old lessons and tests and the occasional note in the same messy but still elegant handwriting, signed J. 

Segundus did not see him throughout the morning. He took his lunch back to the classroom, where he was soon joined by Honeyfoot. They spent the afternoon talking magical theory and history together and Honeyfoot praised again Segundus' questioning of the lack of magic in modern England. 

"Did I tell you?" Segundus asked. "When I was in London a few years ago, I had a very unusual thing happen. There was man who had set up a tent, one of those, you know. He caught my attention because he was covered in tattoos, blue ones. I was feeling a bit down that day and when he offered to sell me a spell, I bought it." 

"Did you?" asked Honeyfoot. "I suppose it doesn't work."

"No," said Segundus. "But the man who sold it to me said something else. He also said that magic would be returning. He mentioned two magicians. Not historians or theorists. Magicians." 

"And you were one, I bet!" 

"Actually, no. It was the oddest thing. He insisted that I write my name down and he looked it at for a long time. It was nearly thirty minutes, him just staring at the paper I written one, and then he made me write it with my middle name too. And then, he said he said I wasn't him after all." 

"Him?" 

Segundus did not want to admit quite how much he had thought on that moment since it had happened. He had never told anyone that the spell he had bought that day went with him whenever he moved or that he looked at it from time to time. He never mentioned how much he hoped the man had been right that magic wasn't gone forever. He did not care who these two men that the man with the tattoos thought would return magic to England were, but he did hope that they came, after all. 

 

On Friday, Segundus put on his new suit and prepared to meet the students that would be arriving that day. 

He had not seen Childermass since the Monday morning he had arrived at the school, but he continued throughout the week to find things that he had left to help him prepare; old syllabuses with things crossed out, a map of northern England for the unit on the Raven King. Mrs Strange assured Segundus, when he saw her later in the week, that Childermass was gone on occasion, always with school permission. 

Segundus stood in the hallway where his apartment was, introducing himself to the boys on his floor as they came in with their suitcases and handing out keys. Inside the rooms, the boys were loud as they unpacked, and soon someone had put on some music. 

About halfway through the morning, he had checked most of the names off of the list. He was waiting for the last of the students when a woman and a teenage boy, very similar in appearance, came up the stairs. 

They were both small and dark haired with pale skin and large brown eyes, both what could be called pretty and delicate. She had a shining, ponytail of long, dark hair and wore a green summery dress and small high heels even though, at a second glance, the middle of her dress revealed the smallest hint of an early pregnancy. 

"Oh, there's your new teacher, Kit," the woman said when she saw Segundus, and the boy made a face typical of a teenager called a private nickname in public by a parent, but Segundus thought that it was rather good-natured. He lagged behind a few steps as she walked up and A few of the boys nodded at the dark haired young man as he passed. 

"Hello," she said. "We're here to check in Christopher.'" 

There was only one of those on the list; Christopher Drawlight. 

Segundus had been thinking about what Honeyfoot had said about Drawlight being under the influence of a bad crowd and eager for friendship and he had been determined to be as kind to him as possible. He shook the mother''s hand and introduced himself to Christopher, trying not think of him as the henchman that Childermass had described. One that was done, Segundus handed over the keys and checked off his name. 

"This one seems nice," said the woman as they walked away. "Don't you and Henry run him off, you hear?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...still making this up as I go along!


	5. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school year begins.  
> Lascelles arrives.  
> Childermass is enigmatic.

By half past noon , the only student left to arrive was Henry Lascelles. 

Most of the other boys were nearly fully unpacked by that time and many had left their rooms for lunch or to go outside onto the lawn into the sunny afternoon. All but a few families had dispersed back to their homes and the young men were officially now in the care of the school and Segundus, a thing which hit him as he looked down his clip board full of checked off names and held the last remaining dorm room key in his hand. It was more responsibility than he had ever had before and the thought was hard to let go of as the afternoon went on.

Henry Lascelles' roommate Christopher was still inside at midday and his things, carried upstairs primarily by a middle aged man in an increasingly sweat stained button down shirt, were all on one side of their room. The window was open and the plain school curtains tied back. When Segundus walked by, Drawlight's young mother was sitting on the bed, fanning herself with a piece of paper and talking to her son and lifting the heavy ponytail of dark hair off her neck and shoulders. 

"You're not going to go outside?" Segundus heard her ask. "We can finish up here, if you like." 

"No," said Christopher. 

He only said one word, but Segundus thought he recognized the sound of a young man who knew he might not be especially welcome in a game or conversation and was purposefully keeping to himself. Segundus thought that he would be getting off to a bad start to his job if he didn't see how his student was doing, so he stopped at the open door to the room. He gave a knock to make sure it was known that he was there and everyone looked up at him. 

"Oh, hello, sir," said the woman sitting on the bed. She smiled at Segundus and turned her face to her son, who was standing behind her. "It's your teacher, Kit." 

"John," Segundus said. "Or, um, Mr Segundus." 

"Rose," said the woman. She stuck out a small hand and Segundus shook it. "And my husband, Dale." 

The middle aged man who Segundus had seen helping to move Drawlight's things nodded at Segundus from his place on the floor, where he was sitting crossed legged assembling a flimsy plastic stand next to the bed. Christopher, who was hanging his clothes in the small closet in the room, did not stop when Segundus came in and only looked over for a second now. 

"I was wondering, Christopher," said Segundus, "If you've heard from Henry Lascelles? Everyone else is here." 

"Been on that phone with him all morning, I'd guess," said the man named Dale. 

"They're probably just a bit behind," said Rose to Segundus. "Not big rushers, that family." 

"Don't like to break a sweat," muttered Dale. 

Rose pretended to swat at him with the paper she was fanning herself with and gave an apologetic frown to Segundus. 

"He'll be here soon," said Drawlight. 

"See!" Dale still did not look up from his work. "On the phone with him all morning." 

"Thank you, Christopher." Segundus waited for the boy to respond. "Is there anything else you might need? Any of you?"

"Oh, we're fine, thank you," said Rose. "It's so nice of you to come by. I said you were a good one. They know me here and Kit too, so you just let anyone know if he's trouble, okay?"

"I'm sure there won't be any problems," said Segundus. 

"Just wait till that Lascelles boy gets here," said Dale under his breath. 

 

It was an hour and a half later that Henry Lascelles finally arrived. 

Segundus was back in his room by then. He had just made himself a cup of tea and was getting ready to relax for the afternoon before his first dinner with his new students. The hall had gotten quieter as most of the boys had wandered off into the nice day and the voices Segundus heard in the hallway carried easily into his room. Both of the voices were masculine, one of them speaking French and the second was responding with obvious frustration in English. 

Segundus put down his tea and opened his door, at first only peeking outside. 

In front of each other stood two near mirror images. But for about thirty years age difference and their clothes and hair styles, the men, one of them a young man indeed, were nearly identical. 

They stopped talking immediately when the door to Segundus' room opened. 

"Yes?" asked the younger man. 

The older one snapped a sentence in French that Segundus couldn't fully understand but he thought he heard the word for teacher. 

"Excuse my son," he said in slightly accented English. "And I hope we're not very late. I see everyone else has arrived." 

"Yes," said Segundus. "They have all arrived. But it's fine. Don't worry about it, really. Just let me get his key. It's Henry, right?" 

"Yes," said the younger of the blond men. 

When Segundus came back with the key, Christopher Drawlight was standing in the door to his and Lascelles' room and a tall, red haired woman was holding the arm of the older of the blonde men. Segundus approached them and handed off the key. There was a feeling in the hallway like a long held breath and Segunud sensed that there was a conversation that was going to resume once he was gone, so he slipped back into his room after a quick goodbye. 

The sound of spoken French resumed as the door shut and Segundus clearly heard a woman's voice, say, "Oh. Alex, please. You know that only makes him annoyed." 

 

Childermass had returned by dinner that night. Segundus saw him sitting next to Norrell, who watched the crowd of talking boys and the other teachers with pained squint. He looked to Childermass often as the meal went on and had an expression on his face like he was counting the minutes until he would be able to leave. 

Segundus sat with Honeyfoot at dinner and told him about the morning, which had been more or less uneventful. He was unsure how to describe Lascelles' arrival so skipped over it, but mentioned his short visit with the family of Christopher Drawlight. 

"Ah, I'm sorry I missed seeing Rose," said Honeyfoot. "A nice girl. She worked here for a long while. Only eighteen when she started, too." 

"She's very young still," said Segundus. "Hardly seems old enough to have a boy Christopher's age." 

"She's had a lot happen in her short life," said Honeyfoot. "I'll give you Drawlight's personal file later. You should read it." 

Dinner was a happy hour and a half or so in the end. They boys had changed into their uniforms to eat and Segundus felt like he had really started his work now, watching all of the jackets with crests and the badly done ties in front of him. Segundus was still wearing his new gray suit, which had gone over very well and gotten him a few compliments. He began to put things to memory to tell Mrs Pleasance later on when he got to visiting her, as she would want to know how it went. He noticed Arabella Strange laughing with her husband, her guest for the evening, and brother at the far end of the teacher's table and not for the first time felt a small pain at the happiness others got from family. 

Foxcastle welcomed everyone back and Segundus was relieved that he wasn't formally introduced at that time but got to sit comfortably in his seat next to Honeyfoot and watch the dinner. Foxcastle mentioned that they would be receiving a visit in the upcoming week from one of the school's trustees, Sir Walter Pole. Foxcastle mentioned as well that Sir Walter would be marrying in October and that a committee would be organized in the next weeks to choose a gift from the student body before then. 

Segundus watched his group of students together at dinner. Henry Lascelles was a focal point of what was going on at their table and Drawlight sat next to him. Around his friends, Drawlight was animated, talking throughout dinner to everyone near him, by turns gregarious and anxious for approval. He was difficult for Segundus to figure out. Segundus had thought, from hearing a little about him from and from their first short meeting, that he and Christopher Drawlight might have a few things in common, but it did not seem that way at all, really. Segundus may have had trouble making friends at school and felt left out at times because he was not as well off as his classmates, but his approach to that particular problem and that of Drawlight could not have been more different. 

Near the end of the meal, Childermass stood up from his place next to Norrell and approached Segundus, who was sitting alone now that Honeyfoot had gone to talk to Foxcastle.

"I'm sorry to have left for so long right before the start of the year," said Childermass. He didn't sit in the now vacant chair next to Segundus but stood behind it. "I hope you had an alright time of preparing things for the start of class." 

"I got the things you left, thank you," said Segundus. 

"And move in?" 

"It went fine, I think. I'll be calling a meeting tonight with the boys to go over rules, if you'd like to come." 

"It's usual for me to be there," said Childermass. 

"I'm sorry! Of course." 

"Well, I wasn't here for you tell me until now, so don't worry about it." He paused for a moment, stopping in the middle of turning to leave. "I finished reading the things you wrote. I think we should talk. Soon if you can. Could you come to the library? On Sunday evening?"

And then then, Childermass had walked away. He spoke to Norrell again and the two left together, Norrell obviously relieved that dinner was completed and that he could leave. 

 

At 8:30 that night, all of the boys gathered in the hallway for a short meeting. Segundus stood in front of the door to his own room, looking at the small crowd of around 20 boys on his hall, most sitting leaned against doors and walls. As he began to speak, Childermass came to the top of stairs and stood at the other end. 

Segundus welcomed them again and for good measure, reintroduced himself. 

"What's the name?" 

Segundus could not hear at first who had spoken, but he soon traced the voice to Henry Lascelles. 

"Thank you, Henry," he said. "I don't think I really got to meet you earlier. John Segundus." 

"That's an interesting name," said Lascelles, sounding like he didn't think it was really interesting at all and smirking at Drawlight sitting next to him.

"Lascelles," said Childermass. 

"Well, it is. Where are you from?" 

"Here," said Segundus. He instinctively looked up at Childermass for clarification before addressing Lascelles again. "I don't know what you mean."

"You don't have to answer him," said Childermass. He had crossed his arms over his chest and was leaned against the wall. "Go on, Mr Segundus."

The rest of the meeting went fairly quietly, though Segundus was aware that Childermass' intervention had been a very large help and wondered how the boys would behave once they were in class on Monday. 

After the meeting was over, the students went back to their rooms. Childermass stood where he was at the top of the stairs but instead of coming up to Segundus, as Segundus thought he might from the way he was posed watching him, he turned and walked away. 

 

John Segundus had been invited to Mr Honeyfoot's house for dinner on Saturday evening to celebrate the start of the school year and introduce him to his family. Much to Segundus’ embarrassment, it seemed that Honeyfoot had told his wife how excited he was to be working with Segundus and had even tried to get her to read some of his work. It ended up being Honeyfoot's youngest daughter who had really been interested in Segundus' writing and was very eager to meet him. Honeyfoot came to the school to pick him up just as the sun was starting to set. 

Segundus had not yet mentioned to Mr Honeyfoot the entirety of his experience with Childermass and Norrell outside the library on the day he was hired, but considering his odd encounter with Childermass suggesting they should speak soon, he decided to bring it up and to ask for advice since Honeyfoot knew them both better. 

"The two things have nothing in common, I'm sure, but I don't know what to make of it," Segundus told him as they drove over to Honeyfoot's house. 

He explained Chidermass' apparent secretiveness about the books that had come into the school over the summer.

"Well," said Honeyfoot, "Childermass has always worked closely with him. When Norrell was hired, it was on the the stipulation that they hire Childermass as well to be his assistant, which I'm not sure how Norrell pulled off, but he did. They moved Childermass around after a while and Norrell threw a fit about that, to tell the truth. Childermass basically does two jobs now. And Norrell makes sure what Childermass does for him takes precedent, when all is said and done. Norrell's always been apart from the rest of the staff." 

"I wonder what Childermass wants to talk about? I should go, right?" 

"Yes," said Honeyfoot. "But what do you say, John? Let's go together, if you think you'd be alright with that." 

"I would," said Segundus. 

"Well, then Sunday, we'll go see what all this mystery is about, huh?" 

Segundus was more able to concentrate on his dinner with the Honeyfoots after talking in the car and relaxed knowing that he had a friend at his new job who do so much for him. He ate dinner with the family and afterward played a board game with Mr and Mrs Honeyfoot and two of their daughters. The adults, Mr and Mrs Honeyfoot and Segundus and their oldest, each had a glass of wine as well. There was plenty of discussion of his writing between Honeyfoot and his daughter, but Segundus found that he was comfortable with it here. 

Segundus felt that it had been a long time since he had smiled quite so much. Things had been changing very quickly for him and it was hard for him to believe how recently it was that he would have spent this evening in his room at Mrs Pleasances', or maybe walking by himself to a coffee shop with something to read or some of his writing for a few hours, or maybe to one of the book shops to browse. He had spent more than one Friday evening in the library as well, the only person at the public computers, updating his CV and looking for jobs before taking the bus back home. Now, he had job and a small apartment and friend who drove him to his house for dinner with his family. 

Around 9:30, Mr Honeyfoot drove Segundus back to the school. 

There were lights on under all of the doors in the student rooms as he walked down the hall to his apartment and the sounds of talking and video games and music followed him. His own room was very quiet and he wasn't tired enough for bed yet. He found one of his favorite books on the shelves and got into bed with it, feeling, until he fell asleep without meaning to only moments later, very peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a few headcannons and back stories for Lascelles and Drawlight for another story (i.e.: Drawlight with a young mother and stepfather and half sisters, Lascelles with a French father) and instead of reinventing the wheel, I decided to just incorporate them into this as well, including names and descriptions of family members and some plot points.


	6. A Forgotten Meeting

At breakfast the next morning, Norrell was not present but Childermass was, sitting with a few of the other teachers but not saying much as he drank his coffee. Seeing Childermass in the middle of a group of the staff was always a bit surprising to Segundus, as he looked so different from the others with his long hair and unshaven face.

Segundus hung back as people began to leave, hoping to talk to Childermass about this meeting he had requested and he got his wish. As he stood to leave, Childermass stood as well and followed him out the door. Segundus stopped outside the door, waiting just outside, and seconds later, Childermass caught the door to the hall before it closed and stepped outside with him. Childermass crossed his arms and for just a shade longer than Segundus would have expected, stood quietly watching him.

"Is 8:00 convenient, Mr Segundus? That is, if you were still planning to come." 

"Yes, I am" said Segundus. "But can you tell me what is going on? Is this academic?" 

"You could say that." 

Childermass began to walk away and as he remembered something he wanted to ask him, Segundus reached to touch his arm to stop him leaving, a thing which he wished he hadn't done as he saw his hand touch Childermass' clothes. Childermass stopped and then looked down at the fingers quickly pulled away from his jacket and then at Segundus. 

"Sorry," said Segundus. He shoved his hand into his pocket. "I was just wondering if it was alright if Mr Honeyfoot came as well. He had asked and I didn't know..." 

Childermass shrugged. Segundus had never met anyone who could interrupt with a shrug before. 

"I think one visitor more won't be too much of an inconvenience for Mr Norrell," said Childermass.

"Oh, will Mr Norrell be there?"

"I don't know where else you would expect him to be, when he is awake." 

"Well, that's very good," said Segundus. It wasn't anything substantial to have said, but he felt he must say something as Childermass was still standing there, still with his arms crossed, still watching him. He finally nodded at Segundus and walked away, toward the front door of school. 

 

Mr Honeyfoot arrived to the school around 7:00 and after a cup of quick tea in Segundus' apartment, they sat outside on the front steps speculating about what the meeting in the library might be about.

"I wonder if it could be the books," said Segundus. There were thickening in the sky, quickly overtaking the stars that were just beginning to come out and making the moon moon blink as they settled over it. 

"The books?" 

"Childermass brought back books for Norrell this summer. I can't shake the feeling that this has something to do with them and with my own work. Do you think- Mr Honeyfoot, do you think they could be books of magic?" 

"That would be a fantastic thing," said Mr Honeyfoot. "Wouldn't it?"

They were at the door to the library promptly at 8:00, looking between each other to see who would be the one to knock. In the end, it was Segundus, who gave a small knock that was answered in seconds by Childermass, who let them in and then locked the door behind them. 

Most of the lights in the library were off, but for a few small ones above the shelves that illuminated the smallest bits of the library at even intervals through the room. A small office at the back was very brightly lit however and Childermass led Segundus and Honeyfoot to it. Mr Norrell was sitting there, waiting for them. It was a neat space, tended too with an obvious amount care, and on the desk, under a lamp, was a book with a red book mark sticking out like a tongue. Childermass closed the door the door to the office and Norrell stood as the door was shut. 

"Mr Norrell," said Childermass. "You remember John Segundus?"

"Yes," said Norrell. "And Mr Honeyfoot as well." 

"Can you tell us what is going on?" asked Segungus to Childermass. 

"I thought there was something you might want to see." 

At the back of the office was a bookcase, full to bursting of old books and at Childermass' urging, Segundus and Honeyfoor approached it. A cursory reading of only a few titles was enough to make Segundus step back. He skimmed a few more in quick succession and half turned so that he could see Norrell better. 

"Mr Norrell," he said. "Are these what I think they are?"

"Of course they are," said Mr Norrell. "They are books of magic. It is only a part of my collection, though." 

Segundus reached out to the case, his hand stopping just short of touching the glass. Behind him, Norrell handed Childermass a key and Childermass walked to the case and unlocked it. After, he nodded at them that it would be fine to touch them. Segundus and Honeyfoot each took a book into their hands and began to flip through the pages. Segundus had only seem real books of magic on two other occasions, and each time only one of them at once. He was now in a room with several of them and he wasn't sure if he was imagining the feeling he had, one of a thickness in his head, like the spells from the books sneaking from their pages and out into the air, into his body. Could he taste it? Segundus was not entirely sure he wasn't tasting magic. 

"Where are the rest of your books?" asked Segundus. He could not believe that was he was looking at these tall shelves of books and that there were still more.

"In my home. These are the ones that require my immediate attention." 

"In your home? But surely the students would benefit from these."

"They are all acquired with Mr Norrell's own money," said Childermass. "They are his own books." 

"I have found other books for the school, suitable ones for the boys, for the school's collection of magical history." Norrell's face scrunched up in defensiveness. "I have done my job very well." 

"I have heard of all these books, but I never thought I would see them. When I asked, they were nowhere to be found." 

Norrell shuffled a bit where he stood and then lifted his chin. 

"It's no crime, to use my money to buy the things I want to buy." 

Segundus looked over at Honeyfoot, who was smiling at a row of books in front of him. 

"John, how lucky!" he said. "Now that we have these, I'm sure we'll be able find answers." 

Segundus, as he looked back to Mr Norrell, was not confident at all they they had been invited here to collaborate, or to be offered access to the books they were now looking at. 

"What answers?" asked Norrell.

"John and I have been talking about why there is no more magic done in England," said Mr Honeyfoot. "And you have all of the books that would tell us the answers."

"I can tell you the answer to that question now," said Mr Norrell. "Magic is done in England. I have been doing it for some time."

 

Believing Norrell was not difficult, though there was nothing specific in his claim; just that magic was in England and he was the one who did it. Segundus simply knew it to be a truth when he and Honeyfoot left Norrell's office around ten minutes later. If someone had asked to to describe what it was that made him believe, all he would have been able to say was that Norrell's office felt like no other place he had ever been and that after leaving, the world was a different place. 

"We are living in remarkable times," said Honeyfoot no less than five times before they had reached the door to the library. 

Segundus remembered to answer a few times with nods. 

Tomorrow morning was the start of class but Segundus didn't think he would sleep that night. He changed into his pajamas and sat on his bed. He had not brought a television with him and for the first time in the few days he had lived in his new home, he thought it was too quiet. 

It was early and the boys were still awake, going in and out of their rooms, closing doors and talking to one another in the hallway, but Segundus was alone in his room, feeling oddly like the events of the evening were dulling in him as he got farther from them. He imagined for a moment a fog inside of himself, seeking out each memory and wrapping itself around it. Segundus tried to remember the title of a book he had seen and a for a moment, it wasn't there in his mind. He retrieved it, but it somehow felt less sharp than it did before. He went to his desk to get a pen and paper but ended up walking to the window instead, where he saw a tall shape walking to the back of campus. Segundus followed the small orange light of the cigarette until he couldn't see it any more.

 

Segundus did sleep after all, and surprisingly well. 

He did not notice anything off until he went to dress. He thought back on the night before as he pulled on his clothes and he knew where he had been, that Honeyfoot and Childermass and Norrell were there. He had seen books, he was almost certain of that. There were so many books, and they were books, he knew, of magic. He could very nearly remember the feeling of them in his hand. When he closed his eyes and thought of them, the words he had read the night before would come to the edge of his vision and scatter like fish in a pond when a rock was thrown in. Segundus had spoken, other people had spoken, Mr Honeyfoot had been very excited when everything had ended. His memories did not become distinct again until he remembered the light of a cigarette bouncing across the campus in Childermass' hand. That was a thing that was very sharp in his mind, as was the tea with Honeyfoot as his table before. 

Segundus did not wear his nicest suit that morning but put on some of his other work clothes that morning, his nicest trousers and stripped button shirt with a tie. The memories did not get clearer as his finished getting ready for the day. It felt as though they were encased in a bubble inside of him, there, but apart, secluded in a place inside of him he could not reach. 

He left his room and greeted the boys as he walked down the hallway to and to the stairs. 

At breakfast, Segundus could not eat. He wanted to talk to Mr Honeyfoot, but he didn't live on campus and wasn't there. 

When he looked up from his cold toast, Childermass had entered the hall. Segundus thought he briefly saw a look of guilt on Childermass' face when he saw him but then it was gone. Childermass hesitated in the door but then walked up to him and took a seat next to Segundus. 

"Good morning, Mr Segundus."

"Good morning." 

"Are you-"

"I am not well, no," said Segundus softly. 

"I was going to ask if you were ready for the first class." 

"Oh. Well, yes."

"Would you like to meet in the classroom? Fifteen minutes? We can discuss the morning's lessons." 

Segundus nodded that he would and Childermass stood to leave. 

John Segundus had no appetite for breakfast after all and put away his plate and cup and followed Childermass to their classroom.


	7. Forgetting, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Segundus makes some important discoveries and Gilbert Norrell issues a challenge.

When Segundus got to the classroom, Childermass was taking a stack of textbooks with faded blue covers from the shelves on the wall and placing them with another small stack on the desk at the front of the classroom. One of the windows was open and the wind blew a finger thin branch toward the sill and it gave taps in an odd rhythm as the breeze came and went. 

Neither man spoke at first when Segundus entered the room but Childermass stopped in the middle of his work, his arms full of books and waited to see if Segundus would ask him the question he was waiting for, but the only sound was the tapping of the branch. 

"I think it will be a fairly easy morning, when all is said and done," said Childermass. 

"John- Mr Childermass-" 

"You can call me what you like when we're alone." 

Childermass set down the books he had been carrying and went back for the next stack. 

"Can you tell me what happened? I feel like I'm looking at the visit to the library through a cloud of smoke. It’s getting less clear every minute. I don't even understand why you asked me to come."

Childermass closed the door to the bookcase. He took his keys from his pockets and used a small sliver one to lock the case. 

"I'll explain. After the lesson. But I don't think you'll like what I have to say."

"Thank you," said Segundus. He was relieved that he wasn't imagining things and even more relieved that there was some cause for his confusion, though his feeling was that he agreed with Childermass. He could not help thinking that whatever explanation Childermass could provide would not set well with him.

"Do you have the syllabuses ready?" asked Childermass. 

"Yes. They're just in the desk drawer. I took your suggestions. They were very good ones." 

Segundus walked around the desk and took the stack of papers from the bottom drawer and set them next to the books. His name was on the top of each one, just next to the titles of their text books and just under the school crest resting in the middle of the top of the page. It was nearly too much that on his first morning of class, he was dealing as well with oddness of his trapped memories of his visit to Mr Norrell. Segundus didn’t realize how long he had been quiet until Childermass came to the side of the desk. 

"Don't be nervous, Mr Segundus." 

"I'm not nervous. I know these books, these magicians, this history. I'm confused. I can't shake the feeling that something very significant has happened to me that I will never be able to remember." 

The first sounds of students coming up the stairs reached the classroom and seconds later, two young men walked in and sat down in some of the vacant seats near the back, under the poster of the John Uskglass' kingdom that Childermass had provided. Within minutes, the room was filled and nearly each seat was taken by a boy in a green and grey uniform. Henry Lascelles and Christopher Drawlight sat next to one another nearly in the center of the room. Childermass stood at the back of the classroom and Segundus by his desk at the front. 

"Good morning, class," said Segundus. 

"Good morning, sir," said the boys. 

Segundus didn’t introduce himself again since all of the boys had already met him. Childermass appeared quietly at his side in the seconds after the boys finished speaking and took the stack of papers and began handing them to the students. 

"There shouldn't be anything surprising in your syllabus,” said Segundus. “We're more or less picking up where you left off last year and we'll be focusing on late Argentine magicians and their major works, specifically Belasis and Goubert." 

When he looked out over the classroom, Segundus saw straight lines of students in their seats, all of them in matching their uniforms, all of them watching him. Segundus went over the syllabus with the students and explained the project and report they would be completing by the end of the term with no incident. 

Childermass passed out the books and Segundus paused before beginning the introduction to the first day's lesson.

"Are there any questions?" he asked. 

Most of the boys looked down at their papers or flipped through their books at the corners, but Segundus saw Lascelles look over briefly at Drawlight, who raised his hand as Lascelles looked back down at his syllabus. 

"Yes, Drawlight?"

"Do you have a girlfriend, sir?" 

A few students laughed, but not Henry Lascelles, who sat in his seat watching Segundus. In the back of the room, Childermass had taken a step forward. 

"Do you have any questions about the class?" Segundus asked. 

"No, sir. It's a very good syllabus." 

Drawlight grinned over at Lascelles, who was still sitting coolly looking at his paper. 

"Well, then we'll move on." 

Drawlight raised his hand again as Segundus finished speaking and without waiting to be called on, spoke. 

"If you don't have a girlfriend, sir, do you have a boy-" 

"Drawlight-" 

Segundus and Childermass started and stopped speaking together, when they realized that each said the same thing at the same time. Childermass nodded at Segundus, who carried on. 

"No more personal questions, please. Now, if everyone could open to the introduction to the first chapter of your book." 

Twenty four books opened within the space of a few seconds, a whispery sound of paper against paper. There were no more disruptions for the rest of that class and an hour later, the students left for their next lesson. 

Segundus sat down his desk when they were all gone. He was now holding on to only the faintest memory of meeting with Norrell the night before now and he thought on the few things left, his legs had become shaky. He and Childermass were alone in the room.

"I can tell you about what has happened," Childermass said from the back of the room. "We don't have a class now, if you want to hear." 

Segundus nodded and Childermass walked to the door and shut it. 

"I'm feeling the effects of magic, aren't I?" asked Segundus. 

"You are." 

"Norrell's magic?"

"Yes. It's a spell on his office, to keep people from remembering too much about his books." 

Segundus put his head in his hands and stared down at his desk. 

"Is that safe? Is it right? There are children here."

"The students never go in there. It's for other people." 

Segundus lifted his head and looked up at Childermass.

"Like me? And Mr Honeyfoot? Neither of us who have done anything to make Norrell think we aren't trustworthy."

Childermass crossed his arms and Segundus thought he was going to defend himself or Norrell, but instead, he sighed. 

"I should have warned you." 

Segundus wanted to say that it should not have been done at all, but he held back. 

"Why was I asked there, if I was only going to forget almost everything?" 

"It will be everything, soon. “

Segundus’ mouth dropped open. 

“And you were asked, Mr Segundus, because it’s time that England knows magic is back. You believe in that." 

In his mind, in his self, there were several minutes’ worth of memories that he would never be able to retrieve because he had walked into a spell in the school librarian's office. He was alive to feel to feel magic being done on him and he was angry about it. The thought was so complex that nearly refused to reach Segundus properly. 

"I believe in it now, more than ever." 

Segundus stood from his desk and turned to the chalk board. There were things to do for the next class and in the hallway, there were the last noises of students in the hallway going to their next classes; a few stray laughs, doors closing, the rushed and squeaking footsteps of a lone student hurrying not to be late. 

"I am amazed and a little furious and so many other things. I need to get through this morning though. I will help with what I can. It's what I have been waiting for years to do. But now, I will need to teach." 

"Of course," said Childermass. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry." 

Segundus did not respond. He picked up his lesson for the next class and a piece of chalk and began to write on the board, lines of careful cursive writing. 

Childermas returned back to the bookshelves to retrieve another round of books. 

"I think you should know something else. I heard that Henry Lascelles found some of your work and he plans to make copies of it. I don't know what for." 

"There's no rule against that, I suppose." 

"No," said Childermass. "There isn't." 

 

Segundus did not go to lunch that afternoon but sat outside on the front steps of the school. 

He had read his first book about magic as a child, when his parents were alive; one for children. He had asked his parents the questions that most children did about why people no longer did the magic they read about. He hadn't settled on studying magic properly until he was nearly an adult, long after they were gone, but he had not abandoned the questions from his childhood at all. If anything, he spent most of the last several years assured that there was some answer to this question.

Now, in the building behind him, there was a man who had books of magic. Not that anyone would get to see them, but they were there; not lost at all, or obscure. And he had used those books to learn how to do magic. 

Segundus had thought there was an answer to why there was no more magic in England, but he had only allowed himself the smallest hope that the answer might be that magic wasn't gone at all. 

Childermass was right. As angered as he was by Norrell's actions, nothing was more important than that he could do what he did with magic. 

He went back inside to find Honeyfoot, who was eating in his classroom while he got ready for his afternoon classes, though like most teachers his food had been mostly abandoned while he worked and Honeyfoot's was sitting next to his desk, only a few bites taken from it, while he typed. He stopped everything when Segundus appeared in the door.

"John, I'm glad you're here. Has it happened to you too?"

"It has." 

"Come in, please," said Honeyfoot. 

Segundus closed the door and took a seat in a student desk near Honeyfoot, one shining with polish from the summer's cleaning. 

"You can't quite remember either?" asked Honeyfoot. He appeared to find the matter of not being able to access some of his memories of the evening before an interesting puzzle to solve. 

"No, I can't. It was magic, Mr Honeyfoot. Norrell is a magician. What we're feeling is a spell he put on his office to protect his books. I think that soon we won’t be able to remember we were there at all.” 

"How amazing," said Honeyfoot, nearly smiling at the idea. "I wonder which spell he did?" 

"Whichever it was, it probably hasn't been done in hundreds of years. We are two of the first people to know that magic has returned. Childermass suggested that he thinks people should know about this and I think he's right." 

"I suppose we might try Foxcastle, as a start." 

Segundus did not have any great faith in Dr Foxcastle believing them, but Honeyfoot was right. He was a logical choice, if Norrell would allow it. 

"I'll talk to Childermass. If he thinks it's a good idea, we'll go as soon as we can." 

 

Segundus had needed to choose a club to supervise as part of his contract and a combination of being the last member of staff hired and the bad luck of him admitting his years of piano lessons as a child, he had been asked to help with the choir. He spent an hour in the early evening before dinner playing while a small group of boys sang, under the direction of another teacher that he did not know well yet. When that was done, he wondered if he should go find Childermass, but decided in the end that Childermass had up to now done a very good job of finding him when he needed to talk. 

Rather than go back to his apartment, Segundus took a walk around the campus. He found that he missed having someone to talk to in the evenings and wanted some time away from the quiet of his new place, especially on a night when so much felt off. 

In the school's driveway, he saw Jonathan Strange waiting in an expensive looking car for his wife to finish her to work and waved to him, but Mr Strange was staring into the sky with his hands behind his head and didn't see him. 

Segundus thought as he walked of the little book he had read with his parents when he was a child, the one that had told the stories English magic through the years. It had been very worn down by the time his parents had died, though at that point it had already sat on his shelf for years. One of the pages was taped up from where he had accidentally ripped it and the cover had several of his fingerprints running down the side. He still had the book, upstairs in his room on the shelf, but it was no longer complete. There were new pages to add to the history of English magic now, he thought. Any child who read a book like that would, from now on, finish with a chapter on Gilbert Norrell. 

He turned a corner and saw a building that he hadn't noticed before, a squat house so covered in ivy as to look like somewhat like a frog crouching in the drying mud, with two windows at front for its eyes. John Childermass was outside, smoking a cigarette. 

Segundus stopped, aware that Childermass was waiting to see if he would speak to him. He walked up to the front of the house as Childermass put out his cigarette. 

"Is this where you live?"

"No," said Childermass. "It's Norrell's." 

"His?" 

"He bought it from the school years ago. He'll sell it back when he doesn't work here anymore. Or not." 

Segundus watched a breeze lift up some of the leaves of the ivy and set it back down again. 

"Does he have spells on it too?" 

"Yes," said Childermass. 

Segundus instinctively took a step back from the small house. 

"You'd have to go in to run into them."

"Don't they affect you?" asked Segundus.

"The magic is cast with me as an exception, generally. Some of it I’ve been taught to counter, in a way." 

Childermass must have been dealing with magic for years to speak of it so casually, Segundus thought. 

"Mr-" he stumbled as started his sentence. It was so hard to figure out how to address this man when it was just the two of them. "John. Honeyfoot and I want to talk to Foxcastle, as a start. I can hardly remember what I need to say now, or what makes me think it, but I know that Norrell can do magic."

"He won't believe it, of course," said Childermass. "But, it's as a good start as any. I'll tell Norrell." 

"It's been a very long day," said Segundus. “I think I'll go back now." 

Segundus was stopped in his first steps of walking back toward the building by Childermass saying his name. 

"Mr Segundus," he said. "You did well today." 

 

Segundus and Honeyfoot went during lunch the next day to Dr Foxcastle's office, where they squeezed together on the bench outside while they waited to be seen. In the office, they took seats next to each other in front of Foxcastle's large desk and told what they knew. 

At first, their story was met with a smirk that wilted into a frown and squinted eyes, mostly directed at Segundus. 

"John. Son. I thought I said very specifically that this sort of thing wouldn't do. I actually said it was the one thing I didn't want you doing at my school." 

"I know, sir. But this real. And very important." 

Foxcastle moved his disapproving squint in Honeyfoot's direction. 

"Honeyfoot. I'm surprised at you." 

"I was surprised to find a magician at this school. A real magician! So, there, we're both surprised."

Foxcastle shook his head. 

"I can't have this. This school has a reputation. And you can’t even tell me why you’re so sure of this. All you can say is that you met with him and might have seen some books and you feel you've felt magic done. Might have seen some books! Felt magic done!”

"What if he could prove it?" asked Segundus.

"Prove it?" asked Foxcastle in return. 

"Prove that he could do magic. What if Mr Norrell could prove he could really do magic?"

Foxcastle folded his hands on his desk. His smirk had returned. 

"If Gilbert Norrell can prove that he can do magic, then I will give him full reign of the department of magical studies and he can do with it what he wants." 

 

 

Foxacastle was not expecting that when Norrell heard what he had said that it would be taken with the utmost seriousness. 

Segundus and Honeyfoot were called in to meet with Norrell's surprisingly young attorney a few days later to verify that Foxcastle had said what he had. Dr Foxcastle, indignant in the face of this attorney who looked like he would be as comfortable running a marathon as he was handing out official looking papers, stood by his challenge. An appointment was made for the start of the second week of school for all of the teachers who taught magical theory at the school to meet with the attorney as well and discuss if they wanted to proceed. 

After classes had ended on the day of that meeting, the teachers concerned with the challenge met in the school’s dusty conference room. Childermass was at that meeting as well, having been given permission to represent Norrell and he stood behind Mr Robinson, who opened his well organize briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers.  
Soon, each member of staff had a contract in front of them, outlining Mr Norrell's proposal. 

"You will not lose your jobs," Mr Robinson explained. He smiled a very white smile at all of the teachers. "You can choose to teach something different, if you like. You will notice the school's severance package will go into effect, should you decide to leave. It's very generous. The only thing that you can't do is teach magic again."

Slowly, hands reached for pens and ink scratched names on paper. 

Next to Segundus, Mr Honeyfoot signed his own name on the paper on the paper and set down his pen. 

"Why?" asked Segundus in a whisper. 

"I want to live in a magical England," said Honeyfoot. "The details don't really matter, do they?" 

After several minutes, Segundus still had not touched his paper. 

"What is it?" asked Mr Robinson.

"I can't," said Segundus. 

The attorney looked back at Childermass. 

"What do you mean, you can't?" asked Mr Robinson. 

"I have only just got here. I have spent years waiting for this. I can't do it." 

Mr Robinson whispered something to Childermass, who left the room and didn't come back for half an hour. During that time, everyone waited and everyone watched John Segundus and his paper. When Childermass returned, he called the attorney into the hallway and when the two came back, Mr Robinson announced that Norrell would make his agreement with everyone but John Segundus. 

Mr Robinson collected the contracts and put them in his briefcase. He informed the assembled teachers that the magic would be done in two weeks’ time exactly, at 5:00 AM in the school's chapel. 

 

Two weeks later, John Segundus' alarm went off at 4:30 A.M. 

It had reached the point of the year where it was still deeply dark at that time and when he woke, he could only see at first by the light coming in from under the door. Segundus dressed in some of his causal clothes and went down to the first floor, where the school chapel was. A small group had already gathered at the doors, including teachers who didn't live on campus and a tired looking Dr Foxcastle. Childermass was there as well, with Mr Robinson, who was in his unwrinkled suit and holding his briefcase at his side. 

The person not present that everyone looked for was Gilbert Norrell. 

"Has he given up before it's even started?" asked Foxcastle at one minute to. 

"He doesn't need to be here for this," said Childermass. 

Foxcastle opened the door to the chapel at exactly 5:00 and the group walked in together and turned on the lights. 

They stood in a group at first, all looking around for some sign of the magic being done. Segundus heard Foxcastle chuckle nervously behind him after a few quiet minutes had passed. 

And then, it happened. 

Someone jumped backward into Segundus and he looked up. In one of the stained glass windows, a figure had turned and was looking at the group. Down the row of windows, all of the figures woke. The room began to fill with noise, starting with the roar of a lion in a window depicting Noah's ark. There was a blast from the horn of Gabriel's trumpet from a window far down the room and crying from another one, and jumble of voices speaking ancient languages. They were illuminated as well, like the gentle light of a sunset was behind them. 

Two people fled the room with shouts and many other stayed frozen in place but Mr Honeyfoot was walking around in amazement. Eventually, a few others joined him and began to move toward the windows. The glass images tried to reach for for the people who approached them and the roaring lion pawed at the glass that was his world. Segundus looked to the back of the chapel and Childermass and Mr Robinson were watching everything. Segundus was not surprised at how calm Childermass was in the face of magic, but Mr Robinson was equally cool. 

After a few minutes, the images in the glass returned with jerky motions to their positions and quieted. 

"Well," said Mr Robinson to the group. "That was enlightening. I'll come back in the afternoon to speak to people who have question about what happens next. I am assuming I won't be seeing you, Mr Segundus. “

"No," said Segundus. He stared at one of the windows where only seconds before there had been life and was now only still glass. 

Everyone still present left the chapel and the door was locked. Dr Foxcastle would not speak to anybody but rushed off his office. 

"John!" said Mr Honeyfoot. "John, it's happened!" 

"It has," said Segundus. 

"I won’t be able to sleep at all after this. Would you join me for a coffee?" 

"I'm sorry. I think I need some time to myself, if you wouldn't mind." 

"Not at all." 

Halfway up the stairs, Segundus decided he didn't want to go back to his apartment and headed toward his classroom instead. 

He unlocked the door and turned on the light. 

On the chalkboard, in large block letters, someone had written "virgin." 

Segundus stared it in a tired daze for what must have been over a minute before walking to get an eraser from the tray in front of the chalkboard. He had just lifted it when he noticed Childermass standing in the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Owl By Night and I had a conversation over the holidays that is relevant to the close of this chapter.  
> I took a few plot liberties which I hope worked out.  
> Thanks for reading.


	8. Emma Wintertowne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The school deals with the repercussions of Norrell's deal.  
> Sir Walter makes a visit with his bride to be.

Childermass swore under his breath as he came into the classroom. 

"That's Drawlight's handwriting," he said, walking toward Segundus. "If you want to do something about it." 

"I don't think that this is the sort of thing I should be drawing attention to. It will pass." 

"Segundus, I've been here longer than you have. It won't pass. They'll do this until you leave." 

"Well, I'm not leaving."

Segundus finished erasing the word that had been written on the board, but it was still partly visible even after. Virgin. He sighed at the traces of the letters and rubbed his forehead. 

"I'll get a wet rag for it," said Childermass. 

"Thank you." 

Childermass left and returned a few minutes later with a damp paper towel, which he used on the board in the place where the letters had been, leaving a spot in the middle of the white dust and other half lingering writing that was cleaner than the rest. Segundus sat down on the edge of his desk and stared at it. It was nearly as conspicuous as the word had been when it was written. Childermass stood next to him, holding the chalky, balled up paper in his hand. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I meant it, when I told Mr Honeyfoot I'd like to be alone for a while," said Segundus softly. "And especially now, I don't think I can speak to anyone." 

He saw Childermass drop the wet rag into the trashcan before he left without saying anything. 

 

The day started off with a very quiet breakfast. The teachers present had heard what had happened and most were subdued as they ate or whispered to one another. A few who had been in the chapel that morning were beginning to clean out their classrooms already. Halfway through the meal, Dr Foxcastle made an unexpected appearance at breakfast and told everyone that there would be an assembly in fifteen minutes’ time. The quiet of the room instantly deepened to near silence. People quickly stopped eating and left for the auditorium. 

Segundus took his place his place with his class and waited for the assembly to begin. He saw Childermass enter and find a seat at the end of the row his class was sitting in. 

Once everyone was present, Dr Foxcastle took to the podium at the front of the auditorium. He had changed from what he had worn that morning in the chapel to a work suit and his appearance was as neat and orderly as anyone would expect the headmaster of a school's to be, but there were heavy, swollen bags under his eyes and he gripped the podium on either side as he began speaking in a voice that crackled with nerves. 

"Where to begin?" asked Dr Foxcastle. "Boys, a lot has happened this morning. It affects not only you, but our whole country. But today, you will be the first ones to bear the brunt of the news, to be affected by it. To put it simply, I have seen with my own eyes that magic has been done in England. In this school. I won't go into the reasons now, but this will mean some changes in staff." 

The muttering had already started and it picked up immediately as Foxcastle stopped speaking. People were turning around in their seats to talk to those sitting behind them and in the youngest classes; there were many appeals to the closest teacher to explain what was going on. A few of the boys attempted to raise their hands to ask questions, but Foxcastle shook his head at them. 

"You'll find out everything later. I can't give too many details now. Teachers, please do your best to answer your students' questions." 

How can they? thought Segundus. Most of them weren't there. They will never really understand.

The assembly ended soon after that, when Foxcastle had explained which teachers would no longer be at the school after that day. Segundus stood with his class when they were dismissed and as they left, he saw Arabella Strange on the other side of the room, her arm around one of the teachers who wouldn't be returning to their jobs. Despite the confusion of the morning, the boys kept to their usual straight lines of grey and green as they filed out the auditorium.  
When they arrived to their classroom, Segundus opened the door and followed the students inside. 

"Are you leaving, sir?" asked one boy. "I heard that teachers are leaving, all of them who teach magical theory." 

"No," said Segundus. "I won't be leaving or changing positions." 

"Can you tell us about the magic?" 

"I heard it was Mr Norrell who did it," said another boy. "I heard he cast spells on you."

"Calm down, boys," said Childermass. "Nobody had spells cast on them." 

At least, thought Segundus, not today they didn't. 

Of all the students, Christopher Drawlight was the most visibly excited by the news of what had happened. He looked from time to time over at Lascelles, but Henry Lascelles had very little to say and shook his head condescendingly at some of the questions the other students asked. 

"It was some trick, I bet," he said. "It's always a trick."

"I can tell you that it wasn't," said Segundus. 

Lascelles shrugged, like he wasn't overly concerned either way. 

"We still have a lot to do today and as I'm the only teacher here still teaching magical theory, I believe we should get started." 

He asked the students to open their books and taught as best he could. Childermass sat in the back of the room with a stack of papers he was helping grade, looking from time to time as the lesson progressed before returning to his work. 

 

A few minutes after the last class before lunch had ended, Mr Honeyfoot appeared in the door to Segundus' classroom. Childermass had left quickly when class was over, presumably to talk to Norrell, and Segundus was alone when he arrived, trying to clear his head and not think about the space on the chalkboard that was just a bit cleaner than the rest. The tea Mr Honeyfoot had brought did wonders to help with at least one of those.

Mr Honeyfoot's good nature had not allowed him to become overly sad by the circumstances of what had happened. Instead, he was cheerful about taking up literature classes and that Segundus would get to keep on as he had. 

"You were right not to sign," he said. "It was a good choice for you, and I'm proud." 

"Do you wish you hadn't?" 

"It hardly matters now, as I did, does it? And my job is such a small thing, compared to what we saw this morning." 

 

A meeting was called after school to discuss all of the changes that would be taking place. Rumors had grown throughout the day and the teachers who hadn't been in the chapel that morning were curious about what had really happened. The most surprising thing was how much turned out to be true. Glass had moved and spoken and Gilbert Norrell had done it. 

Segundus and Honeyfoot were the only teachers besides Childermass present at the meeting who had been there when the magic had been done. No one was happy at the presence of the handsome and polite Mr Robinson, who had come to ensure for Norrell that the contracts had been fulfilled and sat with Childermass near Dr Foxcastle, smiling into a room full of frowns. Honeyfoot told everything he could remember about the morning while Segundus sat quietly in his chair, waiting for the meeting to be over. 

From the open window, Segundus could see teachers moving boxes of their belongings from classrooms to waiting cars. The people affected had generally moved from sad to angry over the course of the day and the tears of the morning were now scowls as careers were packed away into backseats. Segundus had stopped paying attention to all the questions and rants about Norrell and was lost his own thoughts until Arabella Strange pushed back her chair and left the meeting without a word. 

 

The next day, Foxcastle began the process of finding teachers that Gilbert Norrell would approve of for the vacant spots in the staff, as Mr Norrell now had say over anyone hired to teach magical theory at the school. During what would have been their class times, any students without a teacher, now all of them excepting Mr Segundus', reported to the library. 

Segundus heard about that requirement at breakfast and went across the room to Childermass immediately. 

"I already told you that he keeps the magic away from the students," said Childermass as quietly as he could. "That spell has been there for years without a single student being affected."

"That still doesn't make it right," said Segundus. 

"They're just going to read something Norrell has picked out. That's all." 

Segundus was far from placated by this. He didn't like to think it, but also wasn't sure if Childermass was reporting back to Norrell on him and what he taught and he didn't want to ask and wasn't sure how else to find out. 

The stream of angry parents began that afternoon. Many of them wanted to speak to Norrell, but he would never be seen by them. Sometimes Childermass would come in his place, which left them confused. An unshaven teaching assistant with long hair and clothes older than most of the students was no substitute for the man who had deprived their sons of their teachers. As often as not however, the parents had to be content with whatever it was Foxcastle told them about the changes. 

Segundus saw Lascelles' elegant, red haired mother walking out the office once, her face unreadable. 

Segundus had to take a number of phone calls himself once it was discerned that he was the only teacher currently still teaching magical theory at the school. And then came the reporters. Magic returning to England was a cause of celebration and its return was brought by a school librarian of all people, and one who would not give interviews. They were soon banished from the school grounds, but they found out things, and many teachers devoted chunks of time each day to deleting emailed requested for information. 

The days following the official return of magic to England were exhausting for Segundus. When he came into the classroom early in the mornings, it was usually to a stack of graded papers that he hadn't gotten to because of the chaos, of copies made of something that had slipped his mind. 

The chalkboard stayed clean of things written about Segundus and he wasn't sure if it wasn't because Childermasss was in the classroom late into the night. 

 

The timing of the uproar in the school could not have been worse as Sir Walter Pole was set to make a visit at the beginning of the week after the magic had been done. 

Foxcastle had not wanted to cancel this of all his visits because Sir Walter would be bringing his fiancé and her mother this time. The Wintertownes were a rich family that would be passing on a good deal of money to Sir Walter, money Sir Walter might in turn pass on to the school. 

The auditorium was decorated and a gift for Sir Walter's wedding had been chosen by a selected a group of students. A representative from the oldest class at the school prepared a speech. 

Sir Walter's visit was an especially anxious thing for Gilbert Norrell. 

The day started with pretending he didn't hear Childermass knocking on the door of his house and then, as always when he did he tried that, having to go and let him anyway when he refused to stop knocking. 

Childermass had insisted that he at least try to speak to Sir Walter, who was an important man in the school and in the country. If there was a future for magicians in England, people like Sir Walter would be a start to making it respectable. He had implored Norrell daily toward it and Norrell knew when he heard the knock on his door what Childermass was going to say and he pulled his covers over his head. 

When Norrell finally went to the door and opened it to Childermass, he was met with crossed arms just under the level of his eyes. 

"You're not dressed," said Childermass. 

"No," said Norrell. "I'm not."

"Even if you don't see Sir Walter, you have to work today." 

"Maybe. Or maybe not. I have sick days.”

Norrell stepped back from the door and Childermass came into the house. 

"I'll make some tea," he said. "You go put on clothes suitable for work. There's no use hiding when everyone knows you're a magician now. That was the whole point, wasn't it?" 

Childermass was so often right and it was at turns annoying and reassuring. 

Norrell went to his room and dressed and then he came back out to where Childermass was drinking tea, waiting for him. 

"Don't ask me, please," said Childermass. 

He was talking about the young man with the horrible class, the quiet one who hadn't signed with the others. It made Norrell nervous that Segundus was. to an extent, out of his control and he wanted Childermass' help with him, but the man was resolute that there was no harm in John Segundus going about his business and he refused to tell Norrell anything at all about what went on their classroom. Norrell had been ready the week before to insist that this new teacher sign the contract with the rest, but Childermass had insisted just as strongly that John Segundus be an exception. It had seemed like a compromise at the time and it was true that Mr Segundus was smart but self-effacing and no threat to him or anyone else at all. It had been half an hour of arguing over it and now, Norrell worried all the time what Segundus was up to and he worried more that Childermass would say nothing about him. 

Norrell took a sip of his tea but turned his nose up at the toast Childermass offered him, which Childermass ate himself instead. 

"What's the harm in at least speaking to Sir Walter?" asked Childermass. 

He doesn't understand, thought Norrell. Childermass understood a lot, but he never really understood how much there was to fear. 

"I need to go. I have some things to check on for Mr Segundus and it's getting late." 

Childermass finished the late bite of toast with a swig of tea and walked his dishes to the kitchen. Norrell knew Childermass better than he knew anyone and there was a change in him recently that he couldn't bring himself to ask him about. It made Norrell nervous. He had tried to ignore it, but he couldn't and the harder he tried, the worse it got. 

"At least come to the assembly," said Childermass. "Everyone knows you're here. Everyone knows what you can do. You want to help. You want to do good works. At least that's what you said." 

Norrell grunted as Childermass closed the door. 

He already knew that the day would end with him having met Sir Walter and he dreaded it. 

 

Emma Wintertowne did not feel well. 

She rarely felt well but today was especially bad and she didn't know why she had come on this trip except that she wanted to try to do something nice for Walter. She hadn't been able to come the last time he visited and this time, the students were doing something special for their wedding. It had seemed like such a good idea last week, a day out with her fiancé. 

She rested her head against the window of the car with her eyes closed while her mother drove, talking of wedding plans. Today, it was the cake, which they were going to stop and check in on when they left the school. Her mother described something that Emma must have picked out, or have had a hand in picking out, but she couldn't remember it clearly at all now. Maybe she hadn't been well that day, either. 

She wished they weren't taking separate cars. She was doing this for Walter and now, he was driving somewhere ahead of them, leading the way to the school. 

"Up bright and early to the tailor's for a last fitting in the morning," Mrs Wintertowne said, beaming at her beautiful daughter. 

 

Norrell had found a way out. Not even Childermass could argue with this. 

The whole school was at the assembly, but for Norrell and the two boys, the ones from Mr Segundus' class who had been told this morning that they couldn't go. He couldn't remember what they had done to get in trouble but that wasn't important. Someone needed to watch them and Norrell had been the only volunteer. Childermass had brought them up to him himself and it was all Norrell could do to keep from gloating when the boys came in, grinning at each other. 

Childermass rolled his eye at Norrell once the boys couldn’t see him, but let him, thought Norrell. There’s no getting around this. 

Norrell read while he sat in the library with them, the tall blond boy and the dark haired one a head shorter. They did a poor job of pretending to do homework and Norrell ignored it because they weren't bothering anything of his. 

It was a good plan. 

 

Mother had wanted to meet the magician, but he wasn't there that day, or was busy or something. 

It was too bad. Emma wouldn't have minded that either. 

The boys were so sweet but now that the assembly was over and they were in the hall, drinking punch and eating sweets, she started to feel a bit crowded and sweaty. Her head hurt so badly now and she was getting dizzy. Emma looked for Walter through the crowd, or Mother, or somebody familiar. Everything was so hazy but she couldn’t find words to tell the people near her that they were turning into clouds. She needed a rest, or to leave, or anything else. She had the words to say it, but they were trapped with her breath in her chest. She tried to push them out, she tried looking around her to see if anyone would catch her. 

Her foot was wet. Emma looked down and she had dropped her punch right on top of it and her white shoe was now pink. Her vision was getting black, but she could see the floor getting closer by the second. There was a gasp and someone, a very young boy, called out. 

"Miss!"

Emma didn't hear that, or her mother's scream as she banged onto the floor, because she was already gone. 

 

What was that noise? 

Norrell was sure a lady had screamed, loud enough for the sound to carry all the way through the school. Lascelles and Drawlight looked up too, and then toward the closed door of the library. 

Following the scream, there was more noise, soft at first but louder in seconds. 

Hundreds of people talking at one. Hundreds of shuffling feet. The sound of panic. 

The phones the boys had been hiding began to go off and they looked at Norrell first like they might ask for permission but then both got them out anyway. 

"Shit." 

It was the blond one that said that. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit," said Lascelles again. 

The dark haired one dropped his phone on the floor after reading something on the screen and went pale. 

"What?" asked Norrell. 

"She's dead," said Lascelles. 

"Who? Who is dead?" 

"Sir Walter's girlfriend. Or fiancé or whatever. She just collapsed. There's no pulse." 

The noise from downstairs had gotten even louder as teachers tried to calm their students and get them to the classrooms or just anywhere but in the same room as the dead girl. The woman who had screamed earlier screamed again and then again. 

Emma, she said. 

Walter, do something. 

"Mr Norrell?" 

That was the dark haired one, the one named Drawlight. 

"What?"

"Is there magic that can bring people back to life?" 

There was, of course. No one had done it for a long time, but no one had done any magic for a long time. It could be argued that this was no more dangerous than any number of spells, really. But it was an outlandish thing to think. 

"Mr Norrell?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, there is." 

This would be good works, wouldn't it? And for someone important too. He had the book, somewhere in his office, that told how to do it. 

The dark haired boy had stood up from the table he and the other boy were sitting at. Both Norrell and the blond one stared at him. 

"Well, go on, then!"

"There are doctors..." said Norrell. "Surely there's an ambulance on the way."

"What can they do? She's already dead, sir. God, what if you do it? What if you bring her back?” 

Norrell set his book on the desk and stood. Childermass wasn’t here to ask. Childermass would know what do to. Childermass could be able to tell him to sit back down or go get the books. 

“Young man-“began Norrell. 

"I'm going to tell them you're coming," said Drawlight, and ran for the door. 

Norrell walked back to his office, where he unlocked the door and went inside. He found the book he needed and looked at them for a while before he closed them and gathered them in in his arms. He locked everything back up, the case, the office, and he left. 

He left the blond boy alone in the library as he walked out, but Lascelles scrambled after him as the door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, finding out how to transfer Lascelles' and Drawlight's roles in the story onto teenagers hasn't been easy.  
> Also, thanks to the snow for getting work cancelled again today and giving me a chance to write this.


	9. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start happening fast after Gilbert Norrell raises someone from the dead.

Emma Wintertowne opened her eyes. 

There was a man in front her, a short man with graying curls cropped close, and when he saw that she was awake, he dropped the book he'd been holding on the floor and stumbled back from her.

"You're the magician," she said. "You're Gilbert Norrell."

"I am." 

The man bent to pick up the book he'd been holding and Emma looked around her. 

She was lying on a desk, in a classroom. There were bright lights above her head and when she turned her face, a bulletin board of student work, all with As on the top in red, and some with stickers. The room smelled of chalk and bleach. She swung her legs over the side of the side of the desk that she had been put on. Her right foot was wet and her shoe stained pink. 

And then she remembered.

"I wasn't asleep, was I?" 

"No," said the magician. "No, you weren't."

She cringed and hugged her arms as a shiver moved its way down her arms. 

"Please," Emma said. "Can I see my mother?"

"Of course," said Mr Norrell. 

He backed away from her to the door. When he opened it, two boys who had obviously been trying to listen jumped away. 

"What are you doing?" Norrell asked. "Oh, never mind. Go get Mrs Wintertowne, please. Her daughter would like to see her." 

Both boys peeked into the room. The taller one, who was blond, jumped back when he saw her but the smaller one, after a pause, ran off down the hall and was soon followed by the other. 

While she waited for her mother, Emma had plenty of time to notice that she was missing the pinkie finger of her left hand.

 

 

Christopher Drawlight was standing in the middle of a group of boys, telling them about how Gilbert Norrell had raised the girl from the dead when Childermass came back into the school. There was an ambulance outside, its light throwing blue shadows, and a man and a woman in uniforms wheeling out an an empty stretcher, talking into walkie-talkies. 

"He did what?" asked Childermass. 

"He raised her from the dead," said Drawlight. "I was there. He opened the door and she was sitting there on the desk like it had never happened." 

"What door? Where?"

"They took her into Mr Jones' room." 

Childermass ran from the room as Drawlight finished speaking. 

Outside, the ambulance pulled away from the school with no one in it. The young woman it had come to collect was fine. 

 

 

Emma Wintertowne was still in the room when he arrived, now with her mother and Sir Walter standing around her. Mrs Wintertowne had an arm around her daughter and Emma Wintertowne rested her head on her shoulder. As Childermass approached the door, he was nearly knocked back by an odd feeling, like he had stepped into a burning fog, one that seeped into him, rendering him nauseous and dizzy instantly. He clutched the door to keep himself steady. 

"Mr Norrell," said Childermass. "May I speak to you?" 

"Who is this?" asked Mrs Wintertowne. Or at least, he thought it was Mrs Wintertowne. Childermass had squeezed his eyes shut briefly to keep the burning fog out, the one it seemed no one else could feel. 

"He works at the school," said Norrell quickly, and left from the room with Childermass, looking back several times at the small group assembled there. 

"What have you done?" Childermass asked. The fog would not leave him and he leaned his hand against the wall to keep upright and forced his eyes open to look at Norrell. 

"I have shown Sir Walter that I can do magic," said Norrell. 

He was still holding the book, the one he had used. Childermass knew the book. How could he not? He was the only one allowed to remember Norrell's books at all and most of them he had helped find for him. Childermass could only hope that it had been a different spell than what he thought. Norrell clutched the book closer, like Childermass might try to take it from him. Childermass was going to do no such thing though, because he was having trouble staying upright. 

"I did what was right," said Norrell. "I did-" 

"What did you do?" 

"What I had to," said Norrell. "There was a girl, dead. And now look!" 

Childermass could not, but he imagined that she was there in the room right behind them, having her hair patted by her mother, no doubt, like he has seen in the second before this strange feeling overtook him and seeing anything at all had become difficult. 

"It's not like you were there," said Norrell. "You weren't there are at all."

"I was doing what you told me to do," said Childermass. 

Norrell had tried to make it so that no one else in the school but the two of them knew anything significant about magic. But between the two of them, one had managed to be left and Childermass made his way toward where he thought the only other person he could speak to about this was.  


Childermass went to the stairs as best he could. He was going to find Segundus. 

 

 

There was no school the rest of the day. 

It was hard to keep order in the face of a death and resurrection happening at the school within minutes of each other and as he made his way to the stairs, Childermass bumped into boys walking the halls, talking about what had happened. He opened his eyes long enough to stumble out of the way of an especially small boy, who scrambled away from where Childermass' feet had been going to land. 

Following the banister, Childermass made his way up the stairs to Segundus' hall. There was a crowd at Drawlight and Lascelles' door and when he passed, Childermass saw Drawlight inside, surrounded by a group of boys, telling the other them what had happened that morning. Again. Lascelles sat on the bed behind him, his arms crossed while Drawlight, from what Childermass could tell, acted out the events leading up to the resurrection for the unlucky ones who hadn't been there. 

Childermass briefly thought that he was glad someone was managing to have a good time. 

"Lascelles said he couldn't do magic," Childermass heard Drawlight saying. "I always knew he could. You remember, right?"

He almost fell into the group of boys as he tried to make his way on to two feet to the door of Segundus' apartment. He used the wall as a guide when he needed and made it to the end of the hall, where he found the door to Segundus' apartment and knocked. 

When Segundus opened it, Childermass saw that his face was gray and his forehead covered in sweat, the locks of hair that had fallen to the front damp. It was all Childermass could do to keep his eyes open long enough to see that he and Segundus were in similar states. 

"Mr Segundus?"

"It's beginning to feel better," he said. "It was so bad at first. The girl died, John. She died and then Norrell came down and he said that he was going to-"  


Segundus lurched forward and Childermass caught him before he tumbled to the ground. A few boys turned around to look at them, but then went quickly back to Drawlight's story. 

"Sorry," said Segundus, pulling himself from Childermass' arms and grabbing the door. "It's getting better, I think." 

He finally opened his eyes long enough to look at Childermass for more than a few seconds. 

"You too?"

"Me too."

"I think," said Segundus, "that you should come in."

 

Segundus could see better than he could so Childermass stumbled behind him into the apartment. There were only a few seconds before he felt Segundus' hand touch his. 

"Let me," said Segundus, and Childermass took the hand he felt next to his and shuffled after Segundus. 

"Where are you taking me?" asked Childermass. 

"You need to lie down," said Segundus. "It's the only thing that helps."

In another step, his leg hit the bed frame. 

"It's just here," said Segundus, leading him down to the mattress by holding his arm. Childermass lay back until his head hit Segundus' pillow. 

"I'll be here," said Segundus. Childermass felt him sit on the bed next to him. "Don't worry. Really, I think it's passing." 

It wasn't hard to fall asleep at all, really. The pain was terrible and all his eyes wanted to do was close anyway. 

 

 

Childermass guessed it was an hour later when he woke. He was still in Segundus' bed and Segundus was asleep at the end, wrapped in a ball. 

He didn't wake when Childermass sat up. The strange sensation that affected him and Segundus earlier had lifted for Childermass while he was sleep and when he looked at Segundus, he could see his cheeks were more pink now, and his face in sleep didn't show pain. 

Childermass thought about leaving. It was probably the best thing to do. He considered the boys, the other people in the school who might notice where he and Segundus had been, but then Childermass decided that they were likely the last thing anyone was thinking about that afternoon. 

He leaned back again the wall and the movement woke Segundus. Segundus rubbed his eyes and sat up in the bed, leaned against the bed frame. 

"Oh, good," he said to Childermass. "You're better." 

"You?" asked Childermass. 

"I think so." 

"Was that magic that did this to us? Norrell did magic, I know. Did we feel it so strongly?" 

"It was magic," said Childermass. "But I've felt Norrell do magic every day for years. It's not his." 

Segundus glanced at the watch on his wrist and moved toward the end of the bed when he saw how much time had passed while he was asleep with his colleague in bed with him. Before he could apologize, Childermass stood as well, saying something about extenuating circumstances that Segundus nodded at. Segundus turned back to Childermass in time to see him pick up something off the bed, a small rectangular bundle, held together by a rubber band. Childermass picked it up and put it back in his pocket. 

"Just some cards," he said. 

"Cards? You carry cards with you?" 

"I do." 

Segundus walked toward the corner of his apartment where his stove and sink were and reached for a glass on a small shelf above them. He ran a glass of water that he offered to Childermass. Childermass followed him across the room and took it, and Segundus poured another glass for himself.  


Childermass took a long drink that drank half the glass and looked around Segundus' apartment. 

There was another shelf on the opposite wall, this one as full as it could possibly be with books. One stood out, a thin, very faded and grubby book with the title nearly rubbed off from frequent readings. He knew it was a book that told stories about English magic for children, a common one that was in almost every household at some point. He still remembered laughing with his mother when he was small over the story of the Raven King and the Cumbrian coal burner when he was small, tracing the picture of the King on horse with his finger while she read. 

"I had that book too," he said to Segundus. "It was my favorite."

"I'm pretty sure I know it by heart at this point. I can't bring myself to get rid of it, or get a new copy. My mother wrote my name in that one." 

Childermass finished his water and set the empty glass down on the table. 

"I looked for you," said Segundus. "After the assembly, when everything was happening." 

"Sorry," said Childermass. "I hope you didn't have trouble with the boys." 

"Not really, no. But, where were you?" 

"Around." 

There wasn't much to say after that. Childermass didn't even need to explain why he moved toward the door to the apartment. 

"Childermass." 

But after saying his name, Segundus said nothing after all and Childermass left. 

He had been going to ask if Childermass knew that there was another magician, or that there would be. Segundus had been told that there would be two and now, he knew who one of them was. He wasn't sure if he currently the only person besides the man with the grimy stall on the street in London who knew to watch for another.

 

That was not only the day that Emma Wintertowne died and came back to life, but also the day that Dr Foxcastle resigned as headmaster of the school.

By the end of the day, the walls were full of odd squares and rectangles, a bit darker than the surrounding paint where his pictures had hung. There were worn patterns on the carpet where his furniture had sat for years. He managed to have all of it moved out by the time the sun set. 

Sir Walter Pole has sent his bride-to-be and future mother-in-law home but stayed at the school much longer after they had gone. 

The full board of trustees arrived as Foxcastle's things were being moved out the door. 

Around 6:00 in the evening, A.J. Clover sent out an email on the school's behalf, informing them that Gilbert Norrell had been named interim headmaster of the school.

 

 

"That's it, Bell. I really think you should quit." 

"I should what?"

She had been trying to calm Jonathan down since he found out that Norrell was, for at least the time being, headmaster of the school where she worked. That had proved a fruitless task, so she let him rant, pacing the floor of their living room while she sat on the couch. 

"Quit. You can't work with him!"

"I've worked with Norrell for three years now, Jonathan. I honestly think you're more of a danger to yourself at home alone while I'm at work than I am when I'm there with Norrell."

Abashed, Jonathan came and sat to her on the sofa, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair before curling up next to her. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried." 

"Worried?" 

"Look what he's done to the school! It's the second week of October and half the staff has quit." 

"That's an exaggeration." 

But after today, she wasn't so sure. Norrell had never been the most popular teacher in the school and his recent actions certainly hadn't helped anything. She wasn't sure how many people at all would want to work at a school where he was in charge. 

"He raised a girl from the dead," said Jonathan. 

"Why do you sound like you admire him for that one, Jonathan Strange?" 

"I wouldn't go that far. I'd like to know how he did it though. I've only managed such small things." 

It was only a matter of time before they told, or had to tell. 

Jonathan had been doing magic for months now and was getting restless, sometimes sitting for an hour at a time with piles of old magazines and newspapers, ripping out pages and turning them into their reflections in the mirrors of the house. They'd had to buy two new ones recently, because Jonathan had clogged them up with reflections of coupon inserts and perfume ads that he then couldn't move. He wanted to do more, she knew and he had worked so hard to find what he was meant for and now that he had it, he was as happy as she had ever seen him. Arabella didn't mind that he wanted to do more with magic. In fact, she wanted it for him very much. But there was only one person who could teach him and Arabella wasn't sure she wanted Jonathan working with Norrell any more than he wanted her doing the same. 

Neither one could forget the other spell Jonathan knew and what it showed them. Neither could forget the first time Jonathan had done the spell to show what his enemy was doing and they looked down into the mirror and saw Gilbert Norrell in his office at the library. 

 

It wasn't only the day that Emma Wintertowne died. It was also the day that Gilbert Norell considered how to keep people from knowing how he had brought her back. 

He tried to tell himself that it would be fine. Half of seventy-five years, he told himself, looking at his ceiling as he had since he had come to bed to try fruitlessly to sleep. She’ll be fifty-six by then. She might have grandchildren. Several grandchildren, even. It would young to die, but much older than nineteen would have been. 

Except, she wouldn’t die. The fairy would come back for her. And that would be it for her, forever. 

No one could ever find out. 

Most people were fine with vague answers because they didn't know better. 

But one person did know better. 

One person knew better and had seen the book he had brought him with him, the one he was still holding minutes after the girl came back to life. One person knew that book. One person had a set of cards that would tell him everything if he thought to ask. And that, Norrell felt, was only a matter of time.  


Norrell had never done magic on Childermass without his consent before and he hated that he got up from his bed after hours of not sleeping and went to find the book where the best memory spell he knew was. He put it back and for a moment, staring it on the shelf, wished he had the nerve to bury the book, or tear out the page with the spell on it and burn it. 

He went back to bed, and as he fell asleep, Norrell realized, helplessly going through in his mind each thing he would need, that he had all of the tools to do the spell in the house at that moment. He would not do it. He must not do it. But the things were there, the same places they always were.


	10. The Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norrell has a bit of trouble with the new job.  
> Lascelles continues is campaign against Segundus.  
> There's another magician.

"A contract is a contract," said Childermass. "Or in this case, a lack of contract is a lack of contract. There is nothing you can do about John Segundus or his class. At least as it stands." 

"As it stands? What do you mean? Are you saying there's another way?"

Childermass rolled his eyes and did not answer. 

Norrell didn't really have enough furniture or the sort of furniture to fill Foxcastle's office properly. His little desk from the library sat awkwardly in the middle of the room, too much room around it, making it look like Norrell was on a raft at sea. No pictures hung on the walls and the spaces where Foxcastle's had hung for years were still visible as Norrell hadn't taken the time to repaint yet, but the shelves in the office allowed ample space for all of the books he wanted near him. Now that the spells were cast again and the books were all moved in and he felt safe again surrounded by them and the magic that protected them. 

"Is there nothing you'll tell me?" 

"You're headmaster now," said Childermass. "Observe him all you want." 

"You know what I mean." 

Childermass was a help in so many ways now that Norrell had the headmaster's job. He knew how to talk to the parents and the students. He knew what to tell the girl who hovered in his door all the time wanting to know what she should do next. He knew how to apologize to her when Norrell became exasperated at the papers she handed him all the time.

"Her job," Chilermass had told him. "That's called her job, coming here with those papers. And looking at those papers is yours, now."  
Childermass had been a help in so many things. But still, he kept quiet on John Segundus, on his person, on the things he might read or write.  
Norrell didn't have to observe to the classroom. Segundus taught magic and he did not like that. It was not practical magic, but Segundus was the rare worrying theoretical magician. 

And there were some things he needed Childermass to tell him, because it was less about the classroom now, and more about the man and his stubbornness, his curiosity. Childermass had the cards. Norrell could do his own magic, of course, to tell him things about Segundus. But as much as he hated to admit it, the cards were better at some things, especially when Childermass read them. 

Gilbert Norrell fought at every turn allowing the truth to sink in. When it sneaked up on him in a moment when he was unprepared, there was some small comfort in the fact that after these many years, Childermass had always kept the promise he made when they first met; that he would not leave Norrell until Norrell no longer needed him. This, this falling in love thing, had a happened a handful of times over the years and Childermass was, as he said he would be, still with him. 

And there was always the chance that John Segundus didn't love Childermass back. 

 

Segundus knew who it was, of course. 

It was always Lascelles when these things happened, though he was careful to make sure that Drawlight did anything that could at all be traced.  
On his desk that morning, he had found a printed out picture of him at a party with a boy he had dated briefly in college. Their arms were around each other, nothing more, really. Their heads rested against together and the boy, who was named Patrick, held Segundus' shoulder tightly. It was obvious that these were not friends in the picture.

Of course, he thought when he saw it sitting on the desk. The two weeks in university I have a boyfriend, and the one time we go to a party together, someone takes a picture and keeps it for fourteen years. 

Where Lascelles had found it, he didn't know. 

It wasn't a problem for his job, really. He couldn't be fired for it and he wasn't ashamed. It was the threat behind the secrecy Lascelles had used. And there was no going to Norrell about this at all. 

He put the picture in his desk. He planned to get rid of it, but happy pictures weren't easy things to ball up and put into the trash.  
Childermass stayed quietly close for a time, and eventually went back to his own desk at the back of the classroom. From time to time, when Segundus looked out at the room from his teaching, or looked up from his grading if the students were working on their own, he saw Lascelles watching him, especially if Childermass was close by at the time. 

"I can't do anything if you don't tell me what's happening," Childermass told him after the last class ended. 

"Thank you," said Segundus. He put a stack of papers in a folder to take back to his apartment. "It's nothing to worry about." 

"Suit yourself." 

Segundus had flushed then, watching Childermass leave the room with a curt and forceful closing the of the classroom door. Segundus winced at the sound, which had plenty of time to sink into him as it hungrily filled the empty classroom.

He met Honeyfoot that afternoon and the two of them walked to the nearby pub in town for an early dinner and then back to the school to talk and grade papers together. The weather had recently turned cold and by the time they walked back to the school, they grey afternoon had sunk into a night with an empty sky above them.

As they approached the school, Segundus felt a warm knot in his stomach. He ignored it for as long as he could as they walked, though with each step, the knot unfolded in him and grew and wrapped around his thoughts. And then the knot dissolved, shattering in him and piercing his thinking. 

"John?" 

Segundus fell against Mr Honeyfoot, shaking his head at himself and attempting to apologize, but his words never made it to his mouth. He noticed then that they were only a few feet from a garden shed. At first, Segundus saw nothing out of the ordinary but when he blinked, there appeared to be vines of light growing and blooming from under the door and from all the little cracks where the wood of the shed didn't quite meet. 

He pushed himself away from Mr Honeyfoot and took another step toward the shed. 

There was nothing. 

And then it was the morning of his fourteenth birthday. His parents had been dead for two months and ten days. His first thought each day was how long it had been. He couldn't help it. 

It was early summer. The window was open so that along with the marginally cooler morning air, the sunlight entered, as did the noises of the street; the dulled sound of voices swaying past the window as people walked by, the louder sound of cars and far down the street, a garbage truck. There was no sleeping in with the brightness and noise and the stuffiness overtaking the room with each passing moment, so John Segundus got up from his bed. It wasn't as nice of a room as he had had at home, his real home, but he had been able to bring most of his things with him, including the worn quilt, now very thin and sprouting loose thread, on his bed. 

He went to Uncle Desmond's room first to check on him, easing the door open only a crack so as not to wake him if he was still asleep and finding the old man lying on his back and snoring softly in bed. He sighed in relief and then when he turned to go down the hall to make breakfast, a familiar movement in this memory, he was blocked by a tall figure, which had certainly never happened before.

"What the hell?" said the man. "What is this? Wait, I know you."

And then he was longer in his great uncle's house on the morning of his fourteenth birthday. 

He was kneeling in the dirt. Leaves and branches pressed down onto his head from the hedge he was crouched under. He was too big for this place, this cave of summer foliage, but the three children in front of him were the perfect size for a small, secret hideaway like this. Two of them, a boy and a girl with dark hair and very similar faces, didn't see him. They kept drawing on the paper in front of them, which they were filling with an invented map of some sort, drawn in colored pencil. The third child, who had been arguing with the little girl about something on the map, looked up and saw Segundus. 

"I didn't invite you," he said. 

The other two children hadn't noticed the adult man crouched in their hiding space or that their friend had spoken to him. 

"You're not supposed to be here," he asked. 

"John! John! Oh, there you are." 

Honeyfoot was kneeling next to him and when he saw that Segundus was awake, he helped him sit up. He had been lying on a pile of leaves, some of which were now stuck in his hair and creeping down the collar of his shirt and jacket and he set to pulling them out. Seconds later, the door to the garden shed opened and Jonathan Strange stepped out. Behind him, Segundus could see the grown versions of the children from Strange's memory: his wife and brother in law, both sitting cross legged on the floor of the shed. 

"I have forgotten your name," announced Jonathan Strange as he approached. 

"John Segundus." 

He thought he might vomit and dropped his head between his knees. Mr Honeyfoot patted him on the back. 

"Well, John Segundus. Well." 

Segundus tried to look up for a moment but the traces of magic still floating around Strange renewed his dizziness momentarily. 

"What happened?" he said to the ground. 

"I was trying out a new spell. It was going excellently too." 

Segundus pulled his head slowly up and looked at Strange. 

"I didn't mean to." 

"No," said Honeyfoot. "He certainly didn't." 

Arabella Strange walked up behind her husband and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"He's the last person that would tell Norrell what you could do, love." 

"Sorry," said Strange. "I was really excited about that spell. And you say you really didn't mean to enter my dream? Where were we, in yours? Who was that old man?"

"Jonathan," said Arabella with a touch to his shoulder. "It's cold. Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk." 

"We could go to my place," said Segundus to the group, which now included Henry Woodhope who had left the shed to see what was happening and was standing next to his sister. 

"No, no." Strange looked around them. "Come on, we'll go back to ours." 

He and Honeyfoot helped up Segundus as the group made their way to the Strange's car, Segundus wondered fleetingly if the return of English was always going to be this wearing for him. He asked to ride with Honeyfoot and explained, with much embarrassment, that proximity to whatever magic Strange had done was making him sick. He also had no doubt now that he had found the second magician. 

 

 

Strange's mood continued to improve as they talked throughout the evening. 

Segundus was feeling much better as well half an hour after finding himself in Strange's dream and seeing Strange in his. The effects of the magic had dulled and the last wisps of it had floated off from Strange. Despite the fact that Segundus insisted it hadn't been anything intentional, Strange insisted that Segundus tell him everything about he managed to merge their dreams. 

"He fell down," said Honeyfoot. "One minute he was standing next to me, the next he was on the ground." 

"That was really all?" asked Strange. "You walked into my dream as easy as you'd walk into a spider's web? I guess I did the same with yours, at that." 

"I don't remember much. There was nothing at first, then there was-" 

"That sad house!" said Strange. 

"Jonathan," said Arabella. "That's a personal place to John." 

"It's okay," said Segundus. He didn't really want to explain about he came to live with his great uncle and then how he came to not live with his great uncle just six months later when he got sick and couldn't take care of him anymore. 

"Why were you doing magic at the school anyway?" 

"Apparently that silly old shed sits on a place where an old magician used to live and then his daughter, who was also an old magician. The magic is basically in the soil there now. I didn't want to do it there, of course, so close to Norrell. There wasn't much to be done about it though. It was there or nothing."

It was a late night of talking in the end. Eventually, Arabella went to bed and her brother went home. Mr Honeyfoot fell asleep on the couch soon after midnight, leaving Strange and Segundus to talk. They moved to the kitchen and sat together at the table, talking over their separate drinks. Segundus was surprised to discover that he and Strange knew the same street magician and that he had told them the same prophecy. 

"I think he thought for a moment it might be me," admitted Segundus. "But you're the second magician." 

"Well, yes," said Strange. "Look at who the first is, though. You can see why I'm not jumping to work with him, can't you?" 

"He's the only way though." 

"My wife says the same." 

"She's right, Mr Strange. He can make you a great magician, or at least help." 

Strange grimaced. 

"I guess I should go introduce myself, shouldn't I?" 

Segundus woke Mr Honeyfoot around 1:00 and they left. Honeyfoot dropped him at the gates of the school and as he passed the garden shed, now tightly closed again, Segundus stopped and looked at the place where he had fallen under the effects of the magic done there. There was little of it left now, only the occasional yawning puff of light rising from under door. He approached the shed again, but the remains of Strange’s magic did nothing more than make him sneeze. He went to his room and got into bed, but ended up watching the shed from his window until the last of the magic had gone. 

 

 

Norrell thought it was Segundus at first, when he felt the magic. 

That must be what Childermass was hiding from him. Segundus was more than a theoretical magician and Childermass didn't want him to know because of the feelings he had developed, the feelings Norrell had been trying to ignore. Childermass had been hiding something for months now and he was sure, as the magic moved into his to his house like smoke from a nearby fire, that this was it. 

He ran through a host of thoughts in a staggering few seconds; Childermass going to work for another magician. Childermass working against him. When he and Childermass had met, Childermass had been instrumental in making him who he was, going out and doing the things that he, a timid man, was too afraid to. If he was to provide Segundus with such help now, he might also become a great magician. And how much more Childermass would do if love were involved! 

But as soon as those thoughts came into his mind he wondered if it might be Childermass who did the magic. He did small magic from time to time, under Norrell’s supervision. Maybe he had learned more. Maybe Norrell had been betrayed. 

He was pushing that thought away when Childermass arrived at his door to ask if he felt it too. 

Just as he came in the house, however, the feeling of magic started to fade. They went out to look for its source and found the garden shed open, magic hot around it. 

"It's just the place," Norrell eagerly. "That's all it is. We're just feeling the magic of the place."

"You know it's not." 

Norrell walked up to the shed and stepped back quickly like it had threatened him. "You would tell me, if you knew, Childermass, wouldn't you?" 

He looked back and forth between Childermass and the shed, shaking his head at the magic coming from it and waving his hands at it, like the magic would go away so easily. 

"You would't keep something so important from me?" 

"No," said Childermass. "You know I wouldn't."

"Is it that man? The one you made me keep in the school?"

Norrell felt that his blood stopped running in the pause it took for Childermass to answer. 

"No. No, it's not Segundus." 

Childermass came back with him to his little house and Norrell did all the spells he could, spells to find the magician, spells to protect his home.  
He did the spell, the spell to show what his enemy was doing, as he was sure that whatever this man was he, he was an enemy. But it was late by then, his hands shaking with exhaustion. He saw only the darkness of a bedroom, human shapes in the bed under blankets, no clear image of anyone. Norrell squinted at it for some time and held the mirror in many different positions trying to see if there was any way to make it show him something useful, but as much as he jostled it, the mirror refused to be intimidated. 

"There are two people!" Norrell exclaimed after being at his search for a long time. It was the only thing of note at all to see. He shoved the mirror closer to Childermass. "He's married!" 

"Not necessarily." 

"Oh, fine." 

"You don't even know there's a man in that bed at all. Your enemy could be a woman. Or the woman's wife." 

In his exasperation with Childermass, the spell faltered and the mirror became just a mirror. He nearly cried looking at it so useless in his hands, showing him nothing but his own tired self. 

Childermass made him go to bed soon after that. 

As for himself, John Childermass stayed at Norrell's that night. Before falling asleep for a few hours on the couch, he spread out his cards on the coffee table in Norrell's living room. He read them again and again with the same result; Mr Norrell's life was going to change in a large way, and tomorrow. So was all of England. 

 

There was man waiting outside, sitting with the art teacher and he wouldn't go away.

Norrell was tired and jumpy from the night of doing spells and worrying about where the new magic had come from and he didn't want to see anyone, but as many excuses as he tried to make, the man wouldn't leave. 

"It's Mrs Strange and her husband," Miss Clover explained. 

"Who?" 

"Jonathan Strange." 

Norrell knew no such man and even Miss Clover's description of him, one she obviously thought very helpful, as a tall person with a lot of hair didn't help. Norrell kept working and hoped he would eventually go away. 

Childermass came in about half an hour after he had been told about the man's arrival. Norrell was still pointedly taking his time reading something the girl Miss Clover had given him the last time she came in, making slow lines in highlighter and looking up to frown at the door from time to time. 

"Mr Norrell," Childermass said. "Mr Norrell, you have to see him." 

It had all made sense when he saw Strange waiting out in front of Norrell's office. 

Strange was the one who was going to change it all. 

And he did. A few words were all he needed and the world was new, accomplished with such a small thing as a piece of paper in a glass prison. England had two magicians. 

Childermass had never seen Norrell a gleeful until he saw him watch Strange do magic of his own invention. He had seen Norrell smug, gloating, and varying degrees of his own version of happiness. But glee, at least as long as Childermass had known him, had never crossed Norrell's face until that moment.

As a man who had lived with and worked with a magician, been in the presence of one nearly every day for decades, Childermass could not help but feel awe at the experience of being in the room with two. And he couldn't help but feel, watching Strange do his magic, a brief rush of jealousy that he struggled to keep in check as the afternoon went on with plans of magical study already under way for Strange. He felt that he was again the boy of eighteen he had been on the day he met Norrell, knocked back from the sensation of magic on him when he tried to steal his wallet and winding up on the ground on his back. Childermass felt again that he was finding out that there was magic in the world and that none of it would ever really be his.


	11. L'Amoureux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night of grief draws the Johns together.  
> Emma struggles with her enchantment.  
> Norrell doesn't like any of it.

Gilbert Norrell had three large problems. 

The first was that Emma Wintertowne had gone insane. Except, Norrell knew that she wasn't. It was the fairy, messing with the deal they had made. Half of her life! Norrell bet that the fairy thought that was very funny. 

Sir Walter had called every day for a week and Norrell had needed to make excuses for why there was nothing he could do for his wife, who was at home sedated and scaring the neighbors with her screams. Sir Walter stopped calling, eventually, but that was almost worse. Norrell planned to send Childermass to check on things and offer condolences for him but he knew that he would have to go see her himself soon to save his friendship with Sir Walter and the thought made his heart pound. He had thought he would be gone by the time the fairy came for Emma Pole in thirty seven years, or at the least a very old man, far too old for anyone to care if he had once made a bad deal. He thought that he would not have to see the effects of what happened to her when the fairy called in his bargain, but now he would. 

The second problem was that Childermass did not want to go to London with him. He didn't say it. And he didn't plan on not going. But Norrell knew that he didn't want to go, or at least not as much as once would have wanted to, when it was just the two of them. 

And that was tied to the third problem, which was that Norrell's luck was very bad indeed and it seemed that John Segundus did love Childermass back.  


It had started on the night that dark haired boy's mother died. 

 

There was a phone in Segundus' room, affixed to the wall, and it rang one night as he was going to bed early. It had never rung at all before. It was an old phone with a off tune ring like a tin can being hit repeatedly by a stick.

He stopped in the middle of climbing into the bed and went to the phone. The ring stung his ears as he got closer. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello," said a man's voice on the other end. There was a long pause. Segundus heard a tangle of noises in the background, beeps and voices overlapping, a jostling of a cart of some sort. "Is this John Segundus?" 

"Yes," he said. 

"My name is Dale Frogge. I'm Christopher Drawlight's stepfather." 

"How can I help you Mr Frogge?" 

A voice on Mr Frogge's end made a garbled announcement over a loudspeaker. Segundus was only able to make out that a doctor was needed. 

"It's his mother." 

Segundus struggled to hold the phone in his sweaty palm and gripped the receiver in both hands. 

"Is she alright, Mr Frogge?" 

"No," said Dale Frogge. "She's died. About fifteen minutes ago." 

Segundus listened to the sound of the hospital noises moving in the background while he thought of what to say. The same doctor was paged again. Mr Frogge coughed, or sniffled, some small noise of awkward conversation and an attempt to cover grief. 

"I know it's not enough, but I'm very sorry." 

"Thank you," said Mr Frogge. "I've called Chris already, but I need someone to bring him home. My mother is with our other girls and I can't leave the hospital." 

"I'll take care of it," said Segundus. 

"Thank you. Oh, and Mr Segundus? Could you tell him that he has another sister? She's fine. Tiny and on all these machines, but fine. He hung up before I could tell him before." 

Segundus promised he would and put the phone back in its cradle. Just as he did, there was a pounding on his door and someone calling out for him. 

"Mr Segundus!" 

When he opened the door, Segundus found one of the boys standing there, a tall red haired boy who lived in the room next to Drawlight and Lascelles.

"Mr Segundus! It's Drawlight. Something's happened. You've got to come." 

Segundus and the other boy ran down the hall to where the door to Drawlight and Lascelles' room was wide open. Christopher Drawlight was sitting on his bed, his head in hands, crying. Henry Lacelles was on the bed across the room, staring and nearly backed against the wall, like he was afraid overwhelming sadness was something he would be infected with if he moved too close to its source. 

"His mother died," said Lascelles. 

"I know," said Segundus. 

"People don't die having babies these days," said Lascelles. 

"Apparently, they do," said Drawlight. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his grey school jumper. 

Segundus walked to the bed and sat next to Drawlight. 

"You should pack. I'm going to take you to your grandmother." 

"She's not my grandmother," said Drawlight. "She's Dale's mom and she doesn't even like me." 

But he stood up from the bed and Segundus followed. 

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I just have to find someone to drive us." 

Drawlight went to the closet for his bag and Segundus went back to his room to change his clothes and put on shoes and then out on to the grounds. Once he was outside, he ran to Mr Norrell's house. It wasn't until he got there that he realized he had left his coat inside and was shivering. He knocked on the door until Norrell answered. 

Norrell didn't like him. Norrell didn't like a lot of people, but Norrell seemed to especially dislike him. 

"Oh," he said when he saw Segundus. 

"Is Childermass here?"

That was somehow the exact wrong question to ask and Norrell was on the verge of glowering. Segundus tried to peer around him into the house, but it was't necessary, because Childermass had heard him at the door and walked up behind Norrell. 

"Mr Segundus?"

Segundus explained the situation and as the last words left his mouth, Childermass turned to the hooks by Norrell's door for his coat. 

"Meet me at the front of the school in five minutes," he said to Segundus. Instead of putting the coat on himself he handed it to Segundus, who gratefully slipped it on. 

Segundus thanked him for the ride and the coat and went back towards the school. 

"You said you would help me tonight," said Norrell when Segundus was far enough away that he thought he wouldn't be heard. 

"A boy's mother died, Norrell. And I'll remind you that you knew her, too, and she used to work here. I'll be back in hour." 

Childermass moved past him and was then just a tall figure moving through the darkness, a brief glow when he lit his cigarette. 

 

Segundus brought Drawlight down to the front of the school, where an old blue car was waiting, Childermass in the front seat. 

Drawlight climbed in the back with his bag and Segundus got up front with Childermass and gave him the address to Drawlight's house that Dale Frogge had told him earlier. 

"No," said Drawlight. "I want to go the hospital." 

"She's gone, Christopher," said Segundus softly. "You stepfather asked us to bring you home."

"I don't care if she's gone. I still want to go." 

Segundus and Childermass looked across the car to each other. 

"It's his mother," said Childermass. 

Segundus turned to the back seat. Drawlight was clutching his bag to his chest. 

"Please, sir," he said. "I want to say goodbye and see the baby."

Segundus turned back. Childermass was waiting for him to decide. He did not know when he became a person who decided things for other people, a person with two sets of eyes looking at him for an answer. 

"He's your student, Mr Segundus."

"Okay, said Segundus. "The hospital, then." 

Childermass drove the car away from the school. Drawlight sat in the backseat, quiet on the half hour drive. Segundus thought he had never heard the boy go so long without speaking. 

They dropped him at the doors to the hospital and Segundus gave Drawlight his personal phone number to call in case there were problems. The boy disappeared into the bright lights of the hospital lobby. They watched as he approached the information desk and waited util he had walked towards the elevators. 

"You're going to regret that," said Childermass. "He won't want to give it to Lascelles, but he will if he's asked."

"It doesn't matter," said Segundus. "Not tonight." 

"I agree." 

Childermass reached for his cigarettes sitting in the seat beside him and then pulled away after remembering that he wasn't alone in the car. 

"It's your car," Segundus said. 

"They're bad for me anyway," muttered Childermass. "We should stay close in case Drawlight needs anything. Do you want to go have a coffee around the corner? I think I've passed a place we could go sit at." 

"Yes," said Segundus. "I would." 

Childermass drove them to a street a few blocks away where he parked. They got out and walked to a small coffee shop, a dimly lit place painted with murals on the walls and old, wooden tables for seating. Against the wall, mismatched armchairs sat, smaller tables between them, and they were filled with young people. The girl who took their orders and served them was young as well, her hair dyed purple and her and arms filled with tattoos. 

Segundus and Childermass took a table for themselves with their drinks. 

"Well, I don't think I've ever felt so old," said Segundus, looking at a young couple at a table near them, smiling at each other and fretting over every pause in their conversation. 

"Just imagine how I feel," said Childermass. He sat back in his chair and watched Segundus take a sip of coffee. Segundus had forgotten to get his own coat when he was back in his room and was still wearing Childermass'. Childermass saw the moment when he realized it, when someone opened the door to the coffee shop and a cold breeze came in and he tugged it around himself. He apologized and Childermass shrugged it off without either of them speaking. 

"Can I ask if you're alright?" 

"Of course. I'm sorry if I've been a bit sensitive. And I am. Alright, that is." 

"Is Lascelles bothering you?" 

Segundus wanted to tell Childermass that he didn't want to talk about it, but he did this time. He set his drink down and slipped his hands into the pocket of Childermass' coat without thinking and touched a lighter and a stray bit of paper. 

"He is. He wrote a paper last week on magic that requires virgin magicians to perform it." 

"He's trying to get a lot of life out of that particular joke, isn't he?" 

"I think he senses that it's apt and it that it stings." 

Segundus didn't look at Childermass when he said this. It wasn't something that he talked about much and he didn't typically welcome questions on it. Childermass did pause for what felt to Segundus like a long time after he spoke, but he didn't comment. The few times Segundus had this conversation before, it had ended a number of ways, mostly with pitying looks or disbelief. But Childermass simply picked back up his coffee and waited for Segundus to decide what to say next. 

"The worst part it that it was a very good paper," said Segundus, now much more relaxed. "I had to give him full marks." 

"That's the danger of Lascelles." 

They drank their drinks for several minutes more without speaking. From time to time when his drink was sat down and his hands were free, Segundus would reach into the pockets of Childermas' coat for something to do with his hands and was always surprised again to feel the plastic of the lighter meet his hands. 

"That wasn't the only reason I wanted to know if you were alright," said Childermass when they had sat without speaking for several minutes. "I could tell you were upset tonight. You still are, a bit." 

Childermass was right. He had not been able to stop thoughts coming into his mind of the night he sat in the waiting room of a hospital with his great uncle, waiting to hear if his parents were going be alright. He was thirteen years old again, half asleep in a hard chair, listening to the television hung up on the wall in the lobby. He could still remember the shows that were on while he tried to sleep; the commercials whose jingles still stopped him when he heard them.

"I feel very bad for Christopher," he said. "I've been in that situation myself." 

"So have I," said Childermass. "I was a bit older than Drawlight, but I know. It's the worst pain I've ever been through." 

"For me as well." 

"I knew her," said Childermass. "I knew Rose. She was hardly nineteen when Foxcastle hired her."

"I read Christopher's file. His father had just died."

"He was only one then." 

They had nearly finished their drinks and there was no word that Drawlight needed them. The barista with the tattoos switched the music and at the table next to him, Segundus could hear a whispered conversation about the band she had put on, the kind of conversation people had when they were deciding how much they had in common and trying to impress one another. He hadn't been on many dates, but he remembered that he was never good at that kind of talk. Segundus was just thinking that he wouldn't mind staying for a while longer when Childermass said that he had to get back.

They left the coffee shop and went back to the car and Childermass drove them to the school. They didn't turn on any music on the way and they hardly spoke but Segundus felt very comfortable listening to to the sounds of Childermass driving. 

When they arrived back on the grounds and Childermass had parked the car, they walked together until they arrived at a spot between the school and Norrell's house. 

Segundus did not at first recognize the the particular type of pause that happened when they stopped at the place where they would have to say goodnight.

And then he noticed that Childermass had stepped closer and realized what was being decided between them then. 

Saying goodnight now would mean that he did not want Childermass to finish what he was in the process of doing, which was moving towards him to kiss him. So he stayed still, except for when he decided that he would move closer as well.

And then Childermass placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned down and kissed him. 

It was a short kiss, and a gentle one, hardly anything more than a brushing of lips against one another, and then a resting of them pressed together before forming into two smiles Both men pulled back from the kiss easily but did not move far apart from each other. Childermass was so close that Segundus reached out and and touched his sweater. 

"We don't have to talk about it," said Childermass. 

"Right." 

"Or at least not right now." 

Segundus stepped back and so did Childermass. 

"Good night, John," they both said. 

Segundus went back to to his room and hung Childermass' coat on the back of his door 

 

It wasn't spying, really.

Norrell couldn't help it that the spells of protection around and in his home acted a certain way to the presence of John Childermass after so many years.

Norrell felt the little ping of disturbance in the magic that meant Childermass was close. There should have been a ripple then, as Childermass moved further into the magic around the house, but there wasn't. 

He went to the window and he paced. He never dealt well when things were not as he expected them and it been a difficult evening on top of everything else. Emma Pole had called an hour ago, begging him to help her, and then called him names when all he could do was sputter back excuses. He had hung up on her and he didn't like that, but what else was he going to do? Listen to her until had exhausted herself or her vocabulary? 

Norrell pulled back the curtain. Under the tree a few hundred yards from his house, there were two figures, made out easily enough with the light of the school coming from one direction and the light of his house coming from the other. 

Childermass was kissing him, the quiet teacher he had made him keep in the school. Norrell saw them pull back from each other and then stand, just staring at smiling, looking very silly, the two of them. 

Norrell closed the curtain and he went to his room where he paced some more before getting into bed with all of his clothes on. Childermass came into the house and Norrell said nothing when he called for him. 

"Norrell! Norrell!" 

Norrell did not respond. He heard footsteps down the hall and then a knock at his bedroom door. 

"I don't feel well," he said. 

He poked his head out from under the covers. Childermass shoes were still visible under the door. 

"I'm not well!" 

"Fine," said Childermass. 

And then the shoes were gone and Norrell heard the front door close. He could have gotten out of bed but he didn't, choosing instead to stay there fretting.  
Norrell knew that this must have happened before. He didn't pry when it came to Childermass' life outside of magic and their work. Childermass must have kissed many people in the years they had worked together. Or not. But certainly this Segundus was not the first person. Why was he so scared now, of a thing he knew must have happened before? 

He got up from his bed and he went back to the window. He walked out of his room and out into the house, where he paced some more in front his bookcases.  


When he looked down next, there was a book in his hands. 

"How did that get there?" he thought. But he knew the book and he knew why he must have gone to get it in particular. 

He sat studying the spell he had come to find for some time. Gilbert Norrell had never thought that he would look at a spell like this seriously, one that did something as insignificant as make one person stop loving another. He had read it before, and understood how it worked. But he had always scoffed at such things and had certainly never performed it. 

It was one kiss, he told himself. But somehow, he had read the spell five times now. 

One kiss was not a love affair, he told himself. One kiss was not the end of Childermass' loyalty. Childermass, he reminded himself, had always kept his promises. 

He closed the book but he could not put it away. Norrell fell asleep on his couch, the book as his pillow. 

 

 

Childermass had not started packing. 

Soon, he said, when he was asked. 

He never said he wasn't moving. He answered Norrell's questions about leaving and helped Norrell make his arrangements. It was London now, with Mr Strange. They didn't know how long, but there were meetings, interviews, lectures even and television appearances. Childermass had found them a place to stay and was arranging to have it furnished and to have the books moved. 

"It will be like old times," Norrell said. 

London was expensive and they would share again, like when Childermass had come to stay with him after they first started working together and they had lived together in the house Norrell had owned before coming to the school. 

But Childermass had not started packing. 

And he ate nearly every meal now with Segundus. Norrell didn't often go to the hall to eat with the others, but he was annoyed so he watched Childermass in his basin of water and saw the two of them sitting together. 

Norrell thought back to the book, to the spell. 

He would have to do it after all. Nothing worked if he didn't have Childermass. And especially now, with this business with the Pole woman. 

But he could not. 

The basin drove him crazy so he dumped the water in a plant and put it away. 

But not having the basin drove him just as crazy, so Norrell went back home to get it and brought the basin to his office and watched them in their classroom, which he hadn't done before. He watched an entire lesson, Segundus at the chalk board. He watched Childermass stand next to Segundus' desk, his hand for a second on the back of his chair when he leaned over to ask a question. 

He saw Childermass linger when the students were gone.  
"Lunch?"

They left together and the light in the classroom went off. 

One night he watched them sit together in their classroom grading papers. They had never done that before. 

Norrell thought that there might be another kiss that time. But all that happened was that for a moment, Childermass switched hands to write and took his pen in his left hand. Norrell had seen him do it so often he forgot that Childermass could use either hand to write. But now, the movement was intentional. His right hand free, Childermass rested it on the table and Norrell watched as Childermass' hand met Segundus' in a grip, for just a moment.

He would have to do the spell. 

It was the only way. 

 

"Are you excited about London?" asked Segundus. 

They were across from each other at the large desk at the front of the classroom, each with a stack of papers. The door to their classroom was open and the rest of the school was quiet because it was nearing midnight. 

"There are some things I'm excited about, some not." 

"What are you excited about?" 

Segundus had brought a thermos of coffee down for them a few hours ago and he poured some of it into one of the mug he had also brought. Childermass took a sip. 

"A career in magic; a open career in magic. It's what I've wanted since I met Norrell and discovered that magic wasn't dead. He's been hiding for years and I've helped keep his secret, and done all his work in secret. I won't have to do that any more." 

"That does sound more exciting than this," said Segundus. He made a note in the margin of a student's paper and reached for his own mug. He had loosened his tie and undone the top buttons of his collared shirt hours ago and his hair showed signs of being pushed in several different directions as he ran his fingers through it while he graded. 

They had begun to meet here without speaking of it, instead of going to either of their rooms. The school was a small place and word would travel fast of late night comings and goings, even if all they did for now was grade. Or sometimes, reach for the hand across the table. 

"And what are you not looking forward too?" asked Segundus. 

It was just like him, Childermass thought, to have to ask that, and to still not expect that leaving him was the answer. 

 

 

Emma called the magician when Walter wasn't home to stop her. 

At first, she wanted help, but he would do nothing. That much was clear. When she called, she wound up crying and babbling like she always did these days when she tried to talk about what was happening to her. She tried that twice and he hung up on her both times. 

Emma knew that Walter was going to send her away. She heard the phone calls he made. She didn't like the medicine she had to take now because it made her so tired, but even through the thickness of exhaustion and the effects of the pills, she knew that he went to look at a place for her to stay sometimes when he said he was going to work. Work did not make people as sad as Walter looked when he left. Or maybe it did. The world was very hard for her to understand these days. 

She wanted to tell Norrell that she knew what he had done. She tried writing it on paper, but she was only able to, despite being a grown woman who knew how to write, produce a childish picture that made as little sense as her spoken words and made Walter leave the room before he cried when he saw it. She tried typing it, but despite knowing she hit the right keys, no coherent words came out. She thought she could see his face in the computer screen as she tried, the almost human face crowned with that head of white hair. 

That man had come as well, Norrell's man Childermass. He had come to see her and she had thought, by the look on his face, that he might know. He had gone white as soon as he came in the door and had only gotten more pale with each step he took toward her. Walter had tea brought for them and thanked Childermass for coming and Childermass had made a good show of keeping up conversation, but he looked back to her every chance he could and and Emma thought; he will help. He sees it. He's as scared as I am. By that time, she knew better than to try to say anything. She had let Walter and Childemass talk and had tried to keep from falling asleep on the couch. She thought that as he stood to leave that he gripped the couch like he was having trouble standing and when he walked, it was like he was trying to cover that it was difficult for him, like he was fighting dizziness and forcing himself to walk in a straight line he could hardly see. 

Now Emma would probably be going away, but she wasn't insane. Norrell knew, and she wanted Norrell to know that she was aware of everything being done to her and that she was going to fight. 

 

 

The first thing Childermass did when he got to his room was sit on his bed and take his cards from his pocket. 

He had to know what was going on with Emma Pole. She was drowning in magic, the same magic he and Segundus had felt the day Norrell raised her from the dead. 

It was rare that the cards made so little sense. He felt there was a message trying to get through but that couldn't. 

He stopped after half a hour. He gathered the cards back together and sat them on his dresser. He got up from the bed and went across the room to take a drink of water and an aspirin for the headache the magic had given him. 

When Childermass walked back to the bed, he noticed that card that had moved to the top of his deck during the shuffle. The two of cups was looking up at him and he could tell, from the ripped corner of the one under it, that the two of wands was underneath. Childermass picked them up and laid out the first two cards on that were on top, which he already knew. He found the two of coins and the two of swords underneath those. There were many ways to read the cards, but his first thought, despite all the possible deeper meanings, was that it could be some message involving someone connected to the number two. Or, he thought, as he reached for another card, someone whose name is. The next card was L'Amoureux and confirmed to Childermass that he was being told about Segundus.  


It rarely happened that the feeling was so clear so early into a reading, but it was now. It was a feeling of deep unease about the urgency with which the cards had reached out to him. Childermass gathered the them again and left to find Segundus. 

. 

 

Segundus was asleep when Childermass knocked on the door, asleep on top of a lesson he had been planning for the next day. 

"John?" 

Segundus pulled himself up from the table. The sun was nearly fully down now. He had been asleep for hours. 

"John?"

Another knock. 

He couldn't understand why Childermass seemed so relieved to see him when they had just had lunch together before he left to go see Emma Pole. He was even more surprised by the kiss he was pulled into as it happened only seconds after Childermass had closed the door behind him. It took a few more seconds for him to formulate some sort of response, which he decided was going to be kissing Childermass back. He wrapped his arms around Childermass' neck and they kissed until they had to stop. 

Segundus was backed against his kitchen table and he didn't know how that had happened but he let himself rest against it while they caught their breaths. The palms of Segundus' hands were pressed again the table and Childermass' were pressed on the tops of his hands. Their fingers were woven together, an alternating pattern of skin and creases. 

Segundus had been surprised by the kiss, their second kiss, but even more surprising than that was that when he stood up and kissed Childermass again, they both shuddered at the same time as the the feeling of magic crawled up to them and started to tug. 

 

 

Norrell had not been this nervous doing magic since his very first spells over thirty year ago. 

It wasn't necessary to be in the dark to do it, but he had hidden in his bedroom with the blinds closed and only had on the little lamp by his bed. 

Norrell laid everything out that he would need and straightened it several times. That wasn't necessary either. 

Norrell stood up from the bed and sat back down in front of the book and the materials needed. 

He started the spell. 

 

 

Childermass and Segundus pulled away from each other. 

"It's that magic again," said Segundus. 

Childermass knew it even better. He had just felt it that afternoon. 

He was going to explain that, explain that he thought Emma Pole must be here at the school, but he was stopped by the appearance of a second magic, one different from the first and as familiar to Childermass as anything in his life; the magic of Gilbert Norrell. And it was burrowing into John Segundus. 

"John?" asked Segundus. He looked up at Childermass, blinking in confusion.

Childermass reached for Segundus as he slumped against the table, just able to catch himself with his hand. The other magic, the magic that surrounded Emma Pole got stronger until Childermass could barely stand. He forced himself to keep standing as the weight of magic from two different sources overcame John Segundus and he slid to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know next to nothing about Tarot, so I made up most of what I put in about Childermass' cards.


	12. Loyalty (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Johns deal with the consequences of Norrell's spell.  
> Emma gets desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, a shooting that happens in the book happens in this chapter. I really don't think that counts as a spoiler or that anyone will be shocked, but you know, if that's something you need to brace for, then brace.

Childermass dropped to his knees next to Segundus, fighting the feeling of magic that was overtaking him and that threatened to collapse him fully on the floor.

He knew little practical magic but began to run in his mind the fist spell he could think of that he knew in theory, forcing it through the thickening haze in his mind. Childermass had only managed to think the first sentence and open his mouth to begin to speak when Norrell's magic broke off suddenly and with an almost audible snap of finality. 

Segundus' whole body heaved, then relaxed as the hold of Norrell's magic released him and he took a rasping breath in his unconsciousness but didn't wake.  


Childermass was too weak to do what he wanted to, which was bring Segundus to the bed so that he could rest comfortably. He was, in truth, quickly losing the ability to much of anything at all. Childermass lay down next to Segundus on the floor with his hand on Segundus' chest. Childermass felt only felt the pounding in his own head and the waves in his stomach, and Segundus' heartbeat under his hand, a desperate thudding at first and then slowing to a more gentle pace as he joined Segundus in sleep. 

 

Gilbert Norrell's forehead broke out into a sweat and his hands gripped the book with the spell in it. 

He felt his own resistance first, the reluctance coming from within him to do this magic and his work was not strong. There were gaps in the magic when he paused and hesitantly picked back up. 

Norrell felt a push against his magic and knew that Segundus fought the spell as well. Norrell's magic faltered. It was no easy thing to do magic on someone struggling against magic being done on them. Norrell had done magic on a person only a few times in his life. He had set spells that had affected others, but active magic on a specific person was a thing he could count on one hand the number of times he had done and each time, it had been Childermass volunteering so that Norrell could see the effects of a spell for himself, and not only have to know them written out in a book. And those had not been spells like this at all. A struggling subject felt unnatural and he shuddered at the image that came into his mind, that it was like holding a person under water. 

Then, that resistance was gone but just as quickly there was more, a second person working to break the spell he did on Segundus. 

Norrell knew who that person must be and as he realized that Childermass was there and trying to free Segundus, his concentration broke and the magic stopped instantly. Norrell knew that he would not resume it. 

His face was covered in perspiration and he wiped at it with his sleeve and it came to Norrell that it was not all sweat, though he had broken out in a feverish shiver. He had begun to cry as well and that was something he could not remember doing for a very long time. He could not understand the reason for it or that there might be many of them. He only stared at the end of his sleeve that he had used to wipe his face and studied the darker color of the wet portion.

Norrell closed the book and put it away on a shelf, in a place much higher than he usually kept it. And then he went back to his room to destroy all evidence of the spell he had been doing. 

 

 

It had seemed like such a good idea when she left. 

The plan was to go to the school and confront Norrell face to face. He hid from her and she would go to him so that he could see, so that he could not ignore her any more. Emma had never learned to drive so she took the bus to the school and trudged towards it after she got off at the stop. People stared at her on the bus and as she began to walk toward her destination. At one time, people had watched her because she was pretty, but now, she knew it was because she could not keep the fear from her face and she made people nervous. It was the last the thing she cared about any more though, if people watched her and especially if anyone thought she was pretty. She heard it so much in that that other place that she thought she might actually scream if anyone ever told her that again.

As she walked, the hems of her jeans became muddy and soaked up cold water that chilled her ankles. A man outside with his dog stopped to ask her if she was alright. To tell the truth, that she was not, was impossible, so she just asked where the school was and he showed her to the right street. She felt him watch her as she left and the dog barked at her. Animals did not like her these days. 

When she arrived at the school, Emma was exhausted. It was so cold today and she had had to take two doses of her medicine the night before because she screamed so much when Walter suggested she go to sleep so and now she could hardly think. Emma tried to make her way toward the little house where Norrell lived, but she could not walk father and she sunk down to the ground. This was when normal people would cry, but for Emma Pole all the most human parts of her,like tears, had been stolen so she sat at stared at the dead brown grass and the little puddle of muddy water in front her. It must be about 3:00 now, she thought. It would dark soon and after that it was only a matter of hours until she had to go back to that other place. A leaf that had recently fallen from a tree was blown in front of her feet and she picked it up and crushed it in her hand.

That was when she heard a woman's voice from somewhere behind her, a kind voice. 

"Lady Pole? Emma Pole? Is that you? What on earth?"

Emma had seen this woman on the news, sitting with a tall man who wore nice clothes and grinned a lot. Emma was only able to remember who the man was and who this woman crouched down next to her was because the man on the news was Jonathan Strange and she was helped to her feet by his wife. 

Emma Pole thought she might might sob in relief if she had the energy, but she did not. There was another magician now, course. Norrell was not her only hope. She leaned against Arabella Strange as they walked away from Norrell's house and toward the school. Emma fought going inside it at first, because this place was where this horrible thing had been done to her and her body remembered it as they approached. But Mrs Strange coaxed her inside and down a hallway lined with trophy cases to a room that smelled of paint. It was a happy room, Emma thought, a room with large windows and the the walls full of children's art. Emma folded her arms on the desk and rested her head on them. 

She heard Mrs Strange make a phone call and how long later Emma couldn't tell, Jonathan Strange joined them in the room. But unlike Norrell's man who had come to see her, Jonathan Strange did not sense that anything at all was wrong with her besides what he could see with his eyes. There were more phone calls, and then her husband came to take her home. 

 

 

Childermass woke to the sound of his name. His first name, which hardly anyone used or had since he was a teenager. 

When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the underneath of a wooden table. His foot was crossed at the ankle with another that was not his own and underneath his hand, he felt cloth and buttons and warmth. 

"John? Are you awake?"

He turned his head and saw that Segundus lay next to him, his face also turned so that they could look at one another. 

"I am," said Childermass. He moved through the already very small space between them and rested his head on Segundus's shoulder. 

"What happened? I felt so much magic- I couldn't breath-" 

"It's okay," said Childermass,taking his hand. "You did well and you're fine." When John Segundus started to cry, Childermass understood and he wrapped his arm around him. 

It was nearly an hour before either was able to move from the floor and Childermass was much more recovered than Segundus when that time came, so he put his arm around Segundus and pulled him up and together they walked to the bed. Segundus curled himself into a ball in the bed and Childermass covered him with a blanket to his chin.

"I'll come back soon," he said. 

"I think I'm okay now," said Segundus. 

"I am coming back to check on you," said Childermass. 

Segundus nodded and let his eyes close. 

 

 

Norrell had prepared himself for the sound of his front door opening and Childermass arriving. Each second that it had not happened had made the one following it more tense, heavier, and he was relieved when the thing finally happened. 

He was still in his bedroom when the sound he had been waiting so long for came. He got up from his bed and made several false starts toward the closed door of his bedroom before he opened it and stepped out into the hall. He could see Childermass standing in the living room and waiting for him. 

Norrell walked slowly down the hallway toward Childermass, staring at his feet. 

"What were you doing? You almost killed him."

Norrell looked up then. He been so reluctant to do the spell that he knew it had never been strong, even before he felt the fight against it and it weakened even further. To hear that it had nearly killed Segundus was unexpected. 

"What?" 

Childermass paused. There had always been honesty between them but Norrell felt, waiting for Childermass to speak and watching his eyes flit away, that he kept something from him now.  


"There was other magic," Childermass finally said as he looked back him. "It was too much for him." 

"Other magic? I don't understand. Was it Strange? How was it too much?"

Instead of answering, Childermass walked toward him for a few steps and caught himself after a stumble by resting his hand against the wall. 

"I won't ask you why you did magic on Segundus, or what it was. Or why, after all this time, you are doing things like this. But we must trust each other, Norrell, and you can't do that again. To him, or anyone else." 

Norrell nodded. The book was safe high on his shelf, the bit of paper where he had written Segundus' name torn up and hidden in the trash. He would not have to tell what he had almost done. 

When he looked up at Childermass again, a bit of his fear lifted now that it seemed he would escape having to own to the spell, he saw for the first time how pale Childermass was and that he had shoved his hands in his pockets so that their shaking wouldn't be noticed. 

"May I sit down?" asked Childermass sharply after several seconds of being watched. 

"Of course," said Norrell. Childermass walked to the couch with obvious unsteadiness and collapsed onto it. He rested his head on the back and closed his eyes.  


Norrell shuffled off to the kitchen. He felt he should do something so he rummaged around the shelf and eventually made a cup of tea and brought it to Childermass. After several minutes, Childermass opened his eyes and sat up enough to reach to the table where it sat and pick up the cup. 

Norrell went back to his room not long after that. When he came back out a few hours later, Childermass was gone. 

 

 

As he said he would, Childermass came back to Segundus' room when he was able. Segundus lay in his bed and watched him study the shelves above his sink where Segundus kept his food, or would have if had anything more than a box of tea bags and a shriveling orange. 

"You have nothing to eat," said Childermass. 

"I always eat the school's food. I don't get hungry much between meals." 

Childermass sighed on last time and then walked across the room to sit on the bed next to Segundus. 

"I'm feeling much better," said Segundus said. "You really don't have to stay." 

Childermass said nothing to that. He leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms. 

"I wouldn't leave at all if it were up to me," said Childermass. 

"That would be a very bad idea," said Segundus. 

Childermass said nothing to that either. Segundus was right. In another two weeks, he would not have a job here to worry about, but Segundus would. But the school was quiet, as it often was on a Saturday evening after dinner had finished and for the moment, in the quiet and peace of it, a little time at least was theirs. 

"You could stay for a while longer though," said Segundus, putting words to the thought. He moved over in the bed and Childermass studied the space that had been made for him. And then he made it his own and laid down next to Segundus. They hadn't spoken yet since the night of their first kiss about what Segundus had said in the coffee shop about his lack of experience and since they had only kissed again today, they hadn't spoken either about what he might be comfortable with between them or, in fact, what was between them. 

The exhaustion from the afternoon would have kept them from doing much more than they did anyway, which was lying in quiet. Childermass rested his hand on Segundus' chest again. It was comforting to feel the small movements of his breathing under his palm. Childermass tilted his head so that he could see Segundus as he moved his fingers to one of the buttons of his shirt. Segundus nodded with the smallest movement of his chin and Childermass undid a few of them, starting with the top button at his throat. When half of the buttons were undone, he rested his hand on Segundus' bare chest.

Segundus moved closer to him and Childermass leaned over and gave him two short kisses, one to his now exposed neck and the other to a place just below it at his collarbone. His free hand ran down Segundus' thigh and then back up. He watched Segunuds shut his eyes and take in the feeling of his lips and hands and at the small of his back, where Segundus held him, Childermass felt Segundus grip at his shirt. He wanted to keep going, keep kissing him, to keep slipping buttons from their places and then to keep moving from there once his shirt was off. But it was not the right time, not with Segundus still so vulnerable, so Childermass lay back down. Both men were happy to lay in quiet at first and make the most of the short time they had before Childermass would need to leave. Then, Segundus asked the question that he had waited to ask, one that had bothered him since Childermass left earlier after he helped him to bed.

"John. Do you know what happened?" 

"I do," said Childermass. Under his hand, Segundus' heart beat twice. 

"So, it was Norrell." 

"It was." 

Segundus lay without speaking for as long as it took for him to draw a long breath and then he reached over and removed Childermass' hand from his chest. Childermass turned in time to see Segundus sit up in the bed and begin to redo the buttons of his shirt. 

"What Norrell did was inexcusable," Segundus said. "And somehow, you are excusing it." 

"I'm not. I told him it was wrong. I told him not to do it again. To anyone. And he's never done anything like that before." 

Segundus drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, looking away from Childermass. 

"John. I don't pretend to understand everything about you yet, and certainly not your relationship with Norrell. But it's obvious that it's more important than your relationship with me, whatever that is. Or than anything else."

Childermass sat up on the bed and reached out to touch Segundus' arm, but Segundus pulled away. 

"I'm sorry," said Segundus. "I don't want to start a fight. And I don't want-" 

He looked up at Childermass finally. "And I don't want this to end when it's hardly begun." 

"Then don't. Don't do any of it." 

"I'm sorry," said Segundus again. 

Childermass put his legs over the side of the bed and his feet onto the floor. He watched Segundus for a bit longer, but he stared down at the bed again and would not meet his eyes. Childermass stood up. 

"There's a lot you don't understand," he said. 

"I'm sure there is," said Segundus. "But I'll never know, because you won't tell me."

Childermass shook his head and walked to the door without saying anything else. 

 

 

There were two weeks until Childermass left for London. 

When he and Segundus worked together, he left quietly after each class without speaking beyond what was necessary. 

On the weekends and evenings, he spent his time preparing for the move with Norrell. He took papers for Segundus to help with the grading in between, but they didn't meet any more before he left and they didn't have any more meals together. 

Childermass wasn't sure if Norrell had noticed anything else besides that he had all of his time again and that he no longer saw Segungus. If Norrell noticed that Childermass spoke less, or that his words sounded different when he said them, it was not mentioned. Norrell acknowledged only his own relief. Childermass helped Norrell box up the books and other things they would take with them from Norrell's house and nearer to the day they would leave, Childermass began to pack away his own things, though he didn't own much and could barely tell a difference in his room as he removed his belongings from it.

The last day of theirs in the classroom together, Segundus thought desperately of something to say to Childermass after the final class and was relieved when Childermass hung behind longer than he had any other time in the last two weeks so that he could have a chance to speak to him. Segundus had thought every day of many thing he wanted to say to Childermass, if only Childermass would stay in the same room with him for more than a few seconds. Segundus woke thinking of arguments he wanted to have with him and went through them with himself throughout the day, especially as he now found himself with more time than he had had and much of it alone. These imagined arguments were often his last thoughts at night as well. But as he looked at Childermass standing by the door, he could only think of a hand undoing buttons on his shirt, of the warmth of Childermass in his bed. He thought of waking up next to him under the table in his apartment and crying on his shoulder, of a too large coat with a lighter in the pocket. 

"Childermass-" said Segundus. "John." 

"You were right," said Childermass. "Of course what Norrell did was wrong, but there's nothing I can do to change what he did. Or what I did. And I have to go with him. I have to do what I said I would." 

"I wish I could say that I understood." 

Segundus looked down at his desk. He expected to hear the sound of Childermass leaving and then nothing but the still of a room with only him in it. But Childermass did not leave. 

"Are we friends, John?" asked Childermass. 

"We are."

Childermass took a step away from the door toward Segundus and then thought again and stepped back. 

"If you could-"

"Yes?" asked Segundus. 

"Keep an eye on Lady Pole." 

 

 

Norrell had finally come to see her, the day before he moved to London. 

Emma had not wanted to let him in the house, but Walter had insisted. Walter did not know. 

She and Walter had separate rooms now and she sat in hers on her bed, propped up on the pillows that Walter had brought to make her comfortable but that did nothing to help anything at all. She had tugged at the seam of one until it came loose and a small pile of stuffing sat on the bed next to her 

She didn't respond to Norrell at all until he closed the door Walter had left open. She did not want to be alone with him again and she opened her mouth to call out as Norrell took a step toward the bed. 

"Stop," he told her. "I'm- Please, don't scream. I'm not going to hurt you."

Norrell stepped back and Emma's mouth closed again but her eyes went back and forth from him to the door. 

"There's nothing you can do," said Norrell. "There's nothing I can do. So, please, stop. I- I won't answer if you try to call again."

"You're going to leave me like this?" 

Norrell watched the door too, the space under it for a sign of some of someone outside. 

"Don't you think I would have done something if I could?" His whispered hiss sounded to her like a balloon losing air. 

"What about Strange? What if the two of you-" 

"No," said Norrell. "No, that's impossible."

Norrell hadn't stayed long after that. It was obvious that he didn't want to be around her any more than she wanted to be around him. He had only come to tell her, for once, the truth; that he had no intention of helping. He left her as she was and her days passed as all her days did now; in her room by herself with the minutes ticking down until someone made her sleep. 

But there was another visitor, a few evenings after that, one much more unexpected. 

Emma pretended to be asleep when he came in, so she couldn't see his face when he entered the room. But when Walter left them for a moment to answer a phone call, he gasped and she opened her eyes to see him leaned against the bed, holding it for support. He was young and had dark hair to his ears. 

"Lady Pole," said the man. "My name is John Segundus. I hope I'm not bothering you, but-"

The young man gave his head a little shake and then looked at her again.

"Has anyone told you about the rose?" he asked 

"What rose?"

"The one at your mouth."

 

 

Norrell had been hard to spin. 

There was a big interview on a major T.V. station in commemoration of the beginning of the two magicians' careers in London a few weeks after their arrival. Strange was easy to promote to the country; he had a beautiful wife, a brother-in-law who a was a reverend. Strange was warm and looked great on camera. 

Norrell had been much more difficult. Norrell only spoke either too little or too much and could not be made to see the difference between the two. He had no family and the closest person to him was, it appeared, a surly coworker who was now acting as his assistant of some sort and was not someone to put on television to endear the first magician to the nation. 

Then, a helpful intern had discovered that two of Norrell's former students had been with him on the day he raised Lady Pole from the dead. The boys were tracked down and discovered to be a charming and photogenic pair, one tall and blonde and the other a petite brunette. It was also discovered that one of them had just lost his mother and was a human interest piece the country would eat up and the boys were booked to come on for Norrell's interview in place of family or friends or the coworker with the thick accent and the permanently folded arms. 

The boys sat on either side of Norrell during his interview. Norrell blinked at the camera whenever he was asked a question and squirmed under the studio lights like a worm in the sun, but the boys had no trouble talking and praised their former school librarian for his quick thinking on the day on the day Lady pole had died at their school. They made him, thought both the presenters, look very good indeed. Drawlight in particular made Norrell sound brave, which he certainly did not look now as his face got pinker under the lights and his eyes darted around with an increasingly frantic lack of focus. The presenters soon directed all the questions to the boys while Norrell nodded occasionally shook or nodded his head and did a good job of not running away.

 

Segundus watched the interview with his class live, like the rest of the school. Strange's piece had been first and now, after a short break, Norrell and the boys sat with the presenters. Though he hadn't expected Childermass to be on the interview, Segundus wondered where he was now. They hadn't spoken really since Childermass left, but there were pictures sometimes of Strange and Norrell in the papers and Childermass was normally in the background somewhere in those. 

Christopher Drawlight was telling again about the day Norrell raised Emma Pole from the dead. Both the presenters nodded and leaned in as he spoke about the moment when the school realized Lady Pole was dead. Drawlight had just taken a dramatic breath and about to launch back into the story when there was a shuffling from somewhere behind the set in the newsroom and someone at the periphery of the set waved a paper at the presenters. The camera panned away from Drawlight and to the presenters, who listened to something in their earpieces. The woman presenter's mouth dropped open and she closed it quickly. 

"I'm sorry," she said to Drawlight. "But there's-"

She turned to someone off camera.

"Outside the studio?" she asked. "Really?"

Shock stopped her from speaking for many so seconds of dead air that the male presenter picked up. 

"Ladies and gentleman, we're just getting news that there's been a shooting outside the studio." 

Both presenters looked at the same time at Gilbert Norrell. 

And that was how the country found out at the same time that John Childermass had been shot.


	13. Loyalty (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problems multiply for Segundus after he goes to London to visit his injured friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not described Childermass' injuries graphically, but I do mention them.  
> Also...  
> Wow. 13 chapters. That is totally crazy pants. How did this get so long?!  
> If you're here and still reading, thank you such much for all of your support and time and for giving this a chance while I found my footing on where this was going. I hope it's been worth it!  
> Owl By Night deserves a huge shout out for offering a space to vent when I was frustrated working on this story last weekend.

It was not a shot to any place that was in danger of killing him, and a surprisingly short stay in the hospital. 

Childermass left with a bandaged shoulder, his arm in a sling, and some pain medication on Thursday morning after being brought in on Tuesday. Norrell had come for a short visit to bring clothes and a book to read on Wednesday, so when it was time for him to leave, after the final paperwork and the tray of breakfast, Childermass changed out of his hospital gown and into the clothes that waited for him in a bag on the chair in his room. Norrell had not said he would be able to come to get him and Childermass was not going to wait.

In the lobby, on the the edge of the small group of reporters who had come to get pictures of the first magician's man of business leaving the hospital after being shot taking a bullet for him was John Segundus, unnoticed by any of them. He sat in a chair partly hidden by the leaves of a large potted plant, quietly scanning the lobby until he saw Childermass come out of the elevator. Segundus stood and held his breath until the moment Childermass noticed he was there passed and, after a pause, he began to walk straight toward him. He would have smiled, but Childermass had the most frightening dark circles under his eyes and his mouth was set tightly with an obvious effort to not show pain as he walked.

The reporters, still joined together in a chattering clump, followed Childermass as he approached Segundus, but he ignored each of their questions. 

"I got a cab," said Segundus quietly. He looked down and Childermass' hand, he thought, had moved toward his arm and then drawn back. "You don't have to come with me but-" 

"Let's go," said Childermass, already a step toward the glass doors of the hospital. 

"Who is this?" called one reporter loudly to their backs as the two men stepped outside. The simulated noise of a camera's shutter followed them as the reporters began taking pictures with their phones. 

They walked out of the hospital and got into the cab Segundus had waiting outside for them. The door shut behind Childermass but the reporters hovered outside with their phones held up to the windows.

Everyone knew where the magicians lived. Segundus could have easily given the address, but he let Childermass. 

That was the only conversation they had until they arrived at the street where Norrell's new house was. Childermass paid for the cab quickly after he saw Segundus try to reach for his wallet and then slid to the door. 

"I don't have to come inside," said Segundus. He started to say that he had just wanted to see that Childermass was well and that he wouldn't bother him any further, but Childermass held the cab door open as he stood on the street. The driver turned back to look at him impatiently and Segundus followed Childermass from the cab.

"Don't talk till we're alone," Childermass said in a quiet growl barely audible under the sound of the noises of the street and the cab pulling away. They approached the house together and after Childermass unlocked the door with a quick look around, they entered. Childermass relaxed visibly when they were inside and the door was locked behind him, slumped against the door for a moment, his eyes closed. 

"You look terrible," said Segundus. He hovered in a tentative place near Childermass, one he thought was somewhere between close and not. "You should sit down." 

Childermass did not need to be told twice. He took off his coat and went to the couch where he lay down in a series of careful, wary movements and slipped his arm from its sling, which he hung on the arm of the couch closest to his head. 

"Is Norrell home?" asked Segundus. 

"No," said Childermass. "He has meetings with Strange all day." 

The living room of the house that Childermass had chosen for Norrell was primarily decorated with books in tall shelves nearly to the ceiling and there was little space for anything else. It gave the room a dark, cramped feeling on the early winter afternoon but it was a very welcome darkness to Childermass after the nagging brightness of the hospital for two nights.

"I'm so glad you're well," said Segundus. "I was so worried when I saw on television what hat happened. I wasn't sure when you would be out, but Mrs Strange told me last night that it would be today and I just came and waited. We haven't spoken and I wasn't sure-" 

"It's fine." said Childermass. He hadn't slept well in the hospital and in his relief at being home surrounded by the cool dimness that Gilbert Norrell's books created in the room, he could feel sleep already begin to overtake him, though the throbbing in his shoulder jolted him back awake each time it nearly pulled him under. 

"It wasn't really like they said, was it?" asked Segundus. "It wasn't a random person obsessed with magic." 

"No," said Childermass. He swiveled his head as much as he could to see Segundus, who still stood somewhere behind him like he wasn't sure how much of an invitation had been extended to him. "Will you come sit down? It hurts to turn my head like this." 

Segundus walked around the couch and Childermass moved his feet so that he could sit down. 

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"It was Lady Pole," said Childermass. "I don't know how long I can cover up that she did it. Norrell knows, and her husband and his PA Stephen, but no one else. They're looking for a place to treat her."

"It was the right thing to do," said Segundus. He was surprised at how quickly he had been able to decided that. "She's very sick. I went to visit her, like you asked. I talked to her and made some notes about the things she said. The poor woman is encased in magic."

Segundus wanted to tell him about the rose he saw at Emma Pole's mouth, but he held back just as he started to say it. It was partly the pain that had begun on show on Childermass' face, partly the overwhelming presence of Gilbert Norrell here, even in his absence. 

"You should go to bed," he said to Childermass. "I can leave, or-" 

"There's no rush," said Childermass. He shut his eyes and then opened again. It was easy for him to forget the protective magic around Norrell's books, but with Segundus here, he remembered. "Don't look at any of Norrell's books, if you stay."

He didn't get up to go to his bed but closed his eyes without moving from the couch. Segundus watched until Childermass had fully given over to sleep and then quietly stood up. Childermass' legs stretched into the space where Segundus had moments before been and his feet pushed over the end of the couch. Segundus did not want to bother him, but when he was sure that Childermass was deep enough in sleep, he untied his shoes and slipped them from his feet and then retrieved from the armchair in the room a knitted throw. It was too small by far to cover the body of someone as tall as John Childermass, but it was better, Segundus thought, than nothing. 

 

Childermass had forgotten in his sleep that he wasn't alone. He had forgotten a lot that he had to remember when he woke and realized that his face was pressed to the cushion of Gilbert Norrell's couch and that that couch sat in a house in London. Asleep, he did not not have to remember Emma Pole's frantic face as she approached with the gun, or the sound of her feet as she ran off after he told her to as he lay on the ground looking up at her, or the ride to the hospital in the ambulance, the gloved hands of the paramedics streaked with his own blood pressed to his chest. His eyes opened, he let out a groan in the second before he was fully awake as the pain came back. 

"Careful," said Segundus. 

He had to remember it all again now, in a great crash of information; he was in London, he was shot, and Segundus was here; a fuzzy shape that got sharper after a few blinks of his eyes. 

Segundus was here. 

On the coffee table in front of the couch, a number of glasses and cups were assembled; one with tea gone cold, one with tea still warm, and a glass of water with his pain medicine next to it. 

"I didn't know what you'd want," said Segundus. "Or when you'd wake up." 

Childermass sat up and the throw that Segundus had covered him with slipped to the floor. He picked up the water and took a drink, then fell back on to the couch after setting it down. 

"What time is it?" 

"Just before 2:00," said Segundus. 

"It's Thursday. Why aren't you teaching?" 

Segundus sat down on the arm of the couch.

"Well," he said. "I've- well, I've been suspended. Until next early week."

"What?" 

"There's going to be a meeting with the new headmaster. I've been accused of having an inappropriate relationship with-" 

"A subordinate?"

Segundus nodded and felt instantly guilty as he watched how this news hit Childermass, who had gotten pale from the exertion of the trip home from the hospital and had, worryingly, not yet regained much color to his face.

"I can't deny any of the things they've asked me," Segundus said. "The fact that I left after hearing you were shot didn't help anything, I'm sure. There will be pictures now too, I guess, of us leaving the hospital." 

"Lascelles," said Childermass. He pushed a lock of sweaty hair back from his forehead and made a movement toward sitting up. The pain in his shoulder was getting sharper several hours after his discharge from the hopsital. He reached for the water and the pain pill and Segundus slid from the arm of the couch and into the space near Childermass' feet. 

"Yes, I think so," he said. Childermass did not get his eyebrow fully raised before Segundus retracted what he had said. "I know so. Who else would do that?" 

"I'm sorry," said Childermass. "I kissed you first, both times." 

"I remember," said Segundus. 

He rested a hand on Childermass' leg closest to him. He had been so sure only weeks ago that he would never again get to touch this man and that he might never be completely sure how he felt about that and now he was nestled under his knees with a hand on his leg. 

"There's no one here to look after you. I'd like to stay for a little while longer if you wouldn't mind." 

"I don't," said Childermass. He moved his shoulder by accident as he shifted in place on the couch and the movement twisted his face briefly into a wince. He looked down at the slightly raised area under his shirt where his bandage was and Segundus' eyes followed. 

"Do you need help?" 

Childermass only responded with an unenergetic shrug, but when Segundus stood up and offered his hand, he let himself be helped into a standing potion. 

They went to the bathroom and Segundus helped Childermass take off his shirt and then helped him remove the bandage that had been put on at the hospital that morning. He kept his calm somehow when Childermass finally allowed all the pain he felt to show on his face as Segundus pulled the bandage away. He managed to stay calm as well when he saw the place on Childermass' shoulder where the bullet had entered though the sight of it was one he knew would stay with him. When Segundus left the bathroom, Childermass showered with great pain and after, he dried off with still more, he dressed to his waist and then, after as long a wait as he could manage as he decided if he was going to do it or not, called for Segundus. 

Segundus put on a fresh bandage for him while he sat on the edge of the bathtub and when that was done, he slid Childermass' arms into a fresh shirt that he wore unbuttoned. Segundus had made them sandwiches while Childermass showered and they ate in quiet that was only broken by a few of the tamest questions, each introduced with great care. Each left more food on their plates than they ate. Segundus insisted that he clean up as well and then, with the noise of dishes and water gone and the meal finished and the table in the kitchen now empty, there was a silent search for the next thing to do. Childermass wanted a cigarette as he hadn't had one for days now and Segundus helped him with the buttons of his shirt and held his coat for him. He followed Childermass outside onto the tiny balcony, though they didn't say anything at all while they were out there. Childermass only smoked about half his cigarette before they both went back inside and Childermass, out of necessity, returned to his place on the couch. 

"Do you think I should leave before Norrell gets home?" asked Segundus after Childermass was settled back on the couch. The throw had not been picked up from the floor and still sat there where it had fallen from Childermass' body earlier. 

"I don't think it matters. He'll know you're in town, I suppose, if you're staying with the Stranges. And he'll know why." 

"I don't want to cause trouble between you two. Anymore than I already I have." 

Childermass did not say to leave, but he also did not say to stay, so Segundus went for his coat. 

"I haven't gotten to ask," said Childermass. 

"What?" 

"Does this mean that you have you forgiven me?" 

"John Childermass, I'm more confused than ever about what Norrell has done to earn to such loyalty from you. I guess I'm here because I can only hope that one day I might be half as important." Segundus fastened the last button of his coat and tried not to look at Childermas lying on the couch. "And because I've managed to miss you very much."  


"It's a start, I guess," said Childermass. 

Segundus paused for a long time at the last of his buttons. 

"I wasn't sure you cared at all if you were forgiven." 

"Well, I do. "

Childermass was asleep soon after Segundus was gone. In the few moments between the close of the door and when he fell back asleep, Childermass had time to regret the empty space at the other end of the couch where Segundus had sat that morning after bringing him home from the hospital, and to regret that he could not manage to both fulfill his promises to Norrell, promises that kept him close to the magic he loved, and keep John Segundus in his life. 

 

Segundus had been invited to stay with the Stranges while he was in London. After he left Norrell's, he found his way back there and he spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening with Arabella Strange. 

He had wondered how long it would be until a photo surfaced of him of and Childermass leaving the hospital together and one of the new websites devoted to the two magicians had several up by the time he and the Stranges had a late dinner after Jonathan Strange returned home. 

"It's a good thing Norrell doesn't look at these," said Strange. He held up his phone for Segundus to look at a picture of himself bundled up in his winter coat and getting into a cab with the door held open by John Childermass. It was a clear photo and the photographer had zoomed in to capture the moment Segundus looked back and found such mixed relief in the closeness of John Childermass.

"Oh, John." Arabella gave his arm a sympathetic pat after she read the accompanying caption, which speculated about why John Childermass' young former coworker had come all the way to London to retrieve him from the hospital.

"I would say that it's not what it looks like, but-"

"Well," said Strange, "it looks for all the world like you're picking up a loved one from the hospital." 

Segundus sighed. In the picture, he looked behind and up at Childermass as he lowered himself into the cab in the moment before Childermass looked back at him. Segundus supposed it was, after all, exactly how it looked and what it was. 

"What is going on between you two?" asked Strange. He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. 

"Nothing," said Segundus. He looked down at the picture again. "He's busy with his new work, his new life. We hadn't spoken since the move until today."

Mr and Mrs Strange looked between one another. Segundus wondered how couples did that so easily, because it was clear that without speaking, Arabella Strange and her husband had decided on something. 

"I was at Norrell's before I came home," said Strange. "He's being taken care of." 

"Is he happy in London?" asked Segundus. "Before this? Was he doing well?"

Jonathan Strange looked one last time at his wife before he spoke again. 

"Magic suites him," Strange said. 

Segundus closed the picture and handed the phone back to Strange. He was even more quiet than usual through the rest of dinner as he thought about the picture and about Childermass. 

Segundus wondered how much time there was now before someone found out about the inquiry into his and Childermass' relationship at the school and reported that as well. He was sure that Lascelles would be more than happy, if asked, to relay again all the times he had seen Childermass coming from his room, or the times they had been seen working late together, once spotted holding hands. That was a question that had come up when the interview had been set and he had been told what he was being accused of. Segundus been forced to answer that the person who had seen it, whoever they were, had seen correctly. 

The Stranges had a spare room that Segundus stayed in, but in a bed that wasn't his, far away from the small home he had managed to make in his room at the school, sleep was hard to come by. It didn't help that he had so much on his mind and that Strange stayed up late working. The room where Segundus slept was right next to Strange's study and he could hear Strange on the phone with, it soon became apparent, Gilbert Norrell, who called several times over the course of a few hours. Segundus listened to Strange's half of their conversations and thought of Childermass in the apartment he had visited today, maybe by now in his bedroom, and wondered if he could hear Norrell's half. Segundus had not seen that particular part of Norrell's new house, but he tried to imagine Childermass' room anyway. He thought of a place with Childermass' clothes hung up, a place to sit a few books and perhaps a pack of cigarettes on a night table or dresser. A place with a bed where Childermass would now be lying, hopefully asleep or soon asleep. 

Norrell called Strange a handful of times and their last conversation was short; Strange told him that he would be happy to finish their discussion tomorrow and that he was going to bed. Segundus then heard footsteps and the door to the Strange's bedroom close. 

 

Segundus fell asleep early in the morning for a few hours. By the time he woke up, Jonathan Strange had left again and the only sounds in the house were the ones that came up from the street. 

Segundus dressed and then put all of his things back in his backpack before he left the room with it in his hand, prepared to return home. 

"Are you leaving?" asked Arabella as he closed the door to his room. 

He hadn't seen at first that she was on the couch with her sketch book and a mug of tea and jumped at the sound of her voice when he had thought himself to be alone. 

"I've been here two nights." 

Mrs Strange put down her book and pencil and Segundus set his bag at his feet.

"Your review isn't until Monday," she said. "What are you going to do all weekend?" 

"I'm not sure." 

" Why don't you stay at least one more day? You'll drive yourself crazy sitting in your room thinking about it. I don't think it's a good idea to be around Henry Lascelles right now either. It wouldn't surprise me if he could spin bad news for you out of thin air." She picked up her tea and took a sip.  


"You can go see him later, if you want. You can't do that if you're all the way across the country." 

Segundus could not deny that this was a welcome thought, that even if he didn't go to see Childermass in the end that he would at least be in the same city as he was, close by for a while longer. He picked up his bag and put it in the room where he was staying.  


He and Mrs Strange spent the morning in the house and in the early afternoon, she took Segundus out to get him away from his thoughts and they walked around the Strange's new neighborhood and talked about the school and about the Strange's new life in London. She made sure to intersperse news of John Childermass from time to time, though she could not tell if it made Segundus happy or sad to hear it. 

"We could go over there," she said at one point. "I could get us a ride. It might make you feel better, to talk to him." 

Segundus shook his head. 

"I don't want to go with Norrell there," he said. "It wouldn't be good for John." 

Mrs Strange suggested they get lunch while they were out, and as they walked, Segundus spotted a familiar yellow tent across the street from them. He stopped at the sight of it and when he heard the voice that came from from inside, he knew it was the same man from years ago, the one who had spent so much time studying his name. 

"Would you mind?" he asked Arabella. 

"Well, no," she said. "But whatever could you want in there?"

"The man is something of an old friend." 

Segundus approached the tent and parted the opening flaps to peek his head in. The tattooed man sat inside, propped up on a stool and swaying slightly in his sleep. 

"Excuse me," said Segundus, and then he said it again when the man initially did not wake.

The man opened his eyes slowly and scratched at his blue marked chest as he watched Segundus. 

"Hello," he said. He gave Segundus a wide smile of recognition and then yawned. "Good to see you again, John the Second. Would you like to come inside?"

Segundus entered the tent and the flaps fell behind him. He took a seat on the other stool in the tent. 

"What can I do for you?" asked the tattooed man. "I thought I had given you all the information you'd need from me for one lifetime." 

"It's my friend." 

"The one that works with the magician?" 

"Yes," said Segundus. "How did you know?" 

"I've seen a newspaper, John the Second." 

Segundus just kept himself from groaning. 

"You were right about Strange and Norrell. I wanted to know if you knew anything about him, about my friend. Is he going to be safe here? I'm worried about him."

"I don't tell fortunes in general," said the tattooed man with a sleepy stretch. He leaned over his table to look at Segundus. "I only knew about the two of them, and they've done all I said they would. If it's fortunes you want told, you should ask your friend. He's the one with the those cards."

"Wait. You've met him?" 

"I have," said Vinculus, and he smiled his yellow smile again. "We had a very interesting conversation in this very tent."

"Well, thank you anyway," said Segundus when it became apparent that the man was not going to say anything further. He stood to leave the tent and his head brushed the top of it. 

"Oh, John the Second?" 

"Yes," said Segundus in the same breath as he sighed. 

"Someone has tried to take something from you recently, I think. Something important. " 

"I thought," said Segundus, "that you didn't tell fortunes." 

"Not a fortune. Just something I feel." Vinculus scratched at his head of dirty hair. "You wouldn't let them, though. And neither would your friend. I felt it when he came too and now that I've met you, it makes sense."

"And did he know what you meant by that?" asked Segundus. 

" I think he did, yes," said Vinculus. 

Of course, Segundus thought. John Childermass gets to know everything. He left the tent and rejoined Mrs Strange, who still waited across the street. 

"Are you alright, John?" asked Arabella Strange when she saw him. 

"I'm really not sure" said Segundus, with a look back at the tent. He asked Mrs Strange if she minded if they returned to her home. His tiredness had caught up with him and he was suddenly overwhelmed to be standing on a London street two days after John Childermass had been shot. 

Segundus spent that day and night with the Stranges and left the next morning. When he got off the train, it only took him a second to see that Mr Honeyfoot waited for him on a bench. Honeyfoot carried a newspaper that he folded when he stood, but Segundus already knew what was in it. 

"I hope you don't mind that I came to pick you up without calling first," said Mr Honeyfoot as they walked to the car. 

"If I was, that would be very hypocritical of me," said Segunudus to himself under his breath. 

When they got to the car and both Segundus and Honeyfoot sat in quiet after the doors were closed. 

"You could have told me, John," said Mr Honeyfoot. "I would have been happy for you. You might not have found happiness at the most convenient time, but you found it." 

"You're not disappointed?" 

"Why, whatever for?" 

"I was wrong." 

"You broke the rules. I think that's a little different than being wrong." 

Honeyfoot drove them to his house and Segundus was glad of the company of Honeyfoot and his family for the day. When they sat down for lunch, It was the first Segundus had felt like eating for days and some of the dread he had felt on the train passed. 

"You're welcome to stay the night," Honeyfoot told him in the evening. "In fact, I'd feel better if you were here." But Segundus wanted the night to himself and Honeyfoot drove him back to school where he spent a restless night. 

At his review the next morning, Segundus sat in front of the new headmaster, a man named Mr Hunt who was as thin and serious as his predecessor had been the opposite, and answered all of his questions honestly. Segundus was asked again about Childermass' visits to his room and the nights they had worked late together and told Mr Hunt everything that had happened.

"Is there anything else, Mr Segundus?" Mr Hunt's lined hands were folded in front of him. The rested on a file with Segundus' name on it, a file that now held an official complaint against him. 

Segundus took only a second to consider before answering. 

"John Childermass and I kissed. That's all. That's the most that happened but I know it shouldn't have and I'm sorry." 

Mr Hunt took off his reading glasses and set them on the table in front of him, next to the copies of the newspapers that carried the articles that reported Segundus' trip to London to see Childermass in the hospital. 

"And do you really feel, Mr Segundus, like this was a correct thing to do with someone who worked under you? Do you think that having him sleep in your bed and kissing him was something that you, as his supervisor, should have done? And especially while on school grounds?" 

"No," Segundus said. "I can only say that I'm sorry." 

"I'm sure you are." Mr Hunt glanced over at one of the worst newspapers, which carried an overly large headline that speculated about his and Childermass' relationship. "I've spoken to John Childermass and he assures me that he initiated everything." 

Segundus frowned. 

"I'm not sure that's the case. When we were ill, I was the one who suggested he-" 

"Mr Segundus, please be quiet. Firing you isn't something I exactly want to do. " 

Mr Hunt watched Segundus across the desk and Segundus was silent, though it was with obvious great effort that he stayed that way 

"Now, as I was saying. John Childermass assures me that he initiated everything. But this makes us look very bad; sneaking around, running up to London and being photographed. The boys have already had a series of upsets this year and the parents aren't happy." 

"I understand," said Segundus. 

"I have no choice but place you on leave until this all blows over," said Mr Hunt. He rubbed at his eyes and Segundus thought that he did seem regretful. or maybe just tired. "If it does blow over. Take the week to get things in order, but I can't allow you to teach any classes. I'm sorry." 

Segundus was excused from the office and went back to his room. As he came up the stairs and into the hall, he saw what had happened while he had been in the meeting. His entire door had been covered with newspaper clippings from his stay in London; a collage of his face and Childermass' and the cab and the London street. He tore them all down as quietly as he could and when he finished, his arms were full of newspapers. He opened his door and threw them all in the garbage. 

There was no use staying through the end of the week though he was allowed to and he packed immediately. The news that Segundus would no longer be teaching traveled quickly through the school and though all of the other teachers were kind, it was hard to face Henry Lacelles in the halls and at meals. He made arrangements as soon as he could to return to Mrs Pleasance and Mr Honeyfoot again helped him move. 

John Segundus had only been a few days back at his old lodgings when he received a phone call from Sir Walter Pole, who made him an offer of a new job.


	14. Small Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Segundus starts a new job and receives an unexpected visitor (one who really could have just called or something).  
> What is Lascelles up to? We don't know that yet. Let's look for clues, the readers said, scrolling down the page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this story were an Onion headline, it would read; "Local gay couple is secretive, still really into each other. "

The door to Sir Walter Pole's study was closed and he and John Segundus were, the two of them, unquestionably alone. Even still, Walter Pole's eyes would not settle in one place. He peered nervously around the room all the time they spoke and he looked especially often at the tall windows near his desk in a way that suggested he had just noticed the view of his back garden held something frightening. 

"John Childermass was very insistent that you would be perfect for this," said Walter Pole. He glanced again out the window and then nearly looked his guest in the eye but did not quite. 

Unlike his last job interview, Segundus had not brought any credentials to meet with the husband of the woman he might soon be caring for and he sat in his chair across from Walter Pole with his hands on his knees. 

"Was he?" asked Segundus. 

"Yes," said Walter. "He thought you had a good temperament for caring for the ill. He said she would be safe with you." 

He coughed through a small pause and again looked to the window.

"Childermass also mentioned that he trusts you with certain information." 

"He told me about the shooting, yes," said Segundus.

Sir Walter Pole, having heard the words out loud, could no longer avoid the subject. The fight against it over, he frowned and his whole body followed into a slouch. 

"I- I know it's wrong and it will ruin me when it comes out, but I can't help but want to protect her while I can. I can't help but want to think there's a way to help her." 

"You're her husband," said Segundus. "And she's..." 

He thought of the rose at her mouth, the magic that pressed in on her from all sides. 

"She is is not well. The important thing is to keep her safe. And everyone else." 

Sir Walter Pole nodded. 

"Segundus, I must tell you that she's become a bit obsessed with Norrell since falling ill. It's something you should know if you take this job." 

"I see," said Segundus. 

"Maybe it's..." 

Sir Walter stopped in the middle of his sentence as his the last of his energy slipped from him and he rubbed at his eyes. He spent most nights half awake, listening to ensure that the house was truly still and after months of his wife's illness, he was exhausted. 

"What, Sir Walter?"

"Maybe it's natural, for her to feel like she does about Norrell. How can we know? Who else has shared her experience?" 

Segundus could think of nothing to say that would even begin to comfort Sir Walter, so he stayed quiet. 

"Let me call in Stephen," Sir Walter said when he had recovered from the moment. "I've been leaning on him a lot since...since it happened. I really couldn't have gotten by without him. If Emma will come down, we'll see what she thinks about having you for the job." 

Walter stood up from his desk and went to the door. He left Segundus alone in the office and came back a few moments later to tell him that Stephen would be down shortly with his wife. 

When they arrived. Segundus nearly fell from his chair at the shock of seeing a second person with a rose at their mouth. 

 

Segundus came over each day at 8:00, just before Walter left. 

Emma usually stayed in her bed for at least an hour after that. If it was ever more, Segundus came up and knocked on the door to make sure that she was alright. Of course, he knew that she was not. He all of all people knew, though he made an effort not to stare at her mouth during the day, where he said that he saw a rose. 

He made her breakfast once she was out of bed, which she rarely ate much of. She was no more interested in food than she was in anything else. Segundus cleaned up after tutting at her for a while and she dressed. Sometimes, the day passed quietly in the house and sometimes, they went out for a short walk if the weather wasn't bad. Often if they left the house they went to one of the shops in the neighborhood where he tried to get her to be interested in food, or to one of the bright fast food places a few streets over to do the same. Walter and Segundus and Mother were so worried that she had no interest in food, but she knew they they didn't have to be worried at all. The fairy had her for half of her life and he was not going to let that be any shorter than he had been promised by Gilbert Norrell. The one thing that she knew with certainty was not going to happen to her was dying before she was very old. 

That was how the winter had gone and that was the start of spring.

"I'm not going to die," she said to Segundus, who had been prompting her to eat for several minutes. He frowned at her at across the table. 

Segundus had timed it so that there were unlikely to be many other people around when they came in for lunch and he had done well in that regard. There was one mother with a baby, and an old man at a table by himself, but that was all in the dining area besides the two of them. 

Walter must have mentioned that at one point she had liked strawberry sundaes because Segundus had bought her one and set it in front of her. He had even unwrapped the spoon from its plastic and held it out until she took it from him. Emma let the strawberry syrup drip from her spoon, picking it up again and again without eating it, and the ice cream slowly developed a slouch as it melted. 

"Please?" asked Segundus. 

"You don't each much," said Emma. She looked at the space in front of him, which was empty because Segundus had ordered nothing for himself. 

"But I do eat." 

He was under no obligation to admit to her in that moment that he ate less since he started working with her, that though he had become slowly more accustomed to the magic that surrounded her that it still left him nauseated well into the evening after he had gone home.

"I am not going to die," she repeated with a stab of her spoon into the ice cream.

"If you don't eat, you most certainly will."

Emma couldn't tell him how she knew that she was stuck here as she was for a very long time yet and that nothing would change it. She knew what would happen if she tried, the babbling and the frustration that followed, and she didn't want that to happen in public. She dumped the sundae on the table and then felt remorseful as she watched Segundus clean it up with a handful of napkins he grabbed from the holder on their table as he jumped back from the pool of half melted ice cream crawling toward him.

"Sorry." 

She picked up a napkin herself and began to help him mop up the mess on the table. 

"It's okay," said Segundus. 

At least, because he saw the rose, because he felt the magic around her even if he didn't know what it was yet, Segundus knew that there was more to what was wrong with her than what other people saw. When Segundus said it was okay, she knew he meant it. 

They left the restaurant soon after the mess was cleaned up. Segundus suggested a walk and a trip to the library and Emma felt that she owed him, so she agreed even though she was tired and didn't care at all to go.

"You liked the book about the American Revolution, didn't you?" he said. "We can get more. What do you think?" 

She gave him as enthusiastic a nod as she could muster, which wasn't very enthusiastic at all. Segundus continued for a few more minutes to talk about the book and the library until a bit his enthusiasm began to break through to her. 

"Did I tell you, John, that I was supposed to study history?" Emma asked. "I was accepted and everything."

"No," said Segundus. "You hadn't mentioned it."

"First I was too sick, then it was the wedding and being too sick, and then..." 

Segundus gave her a soft smile. 

"If you love history at all how I love magic, you must miss it." 

Emma thought she did sometimes, but she also thought the girl who had held that acceptance letter in her hands and thought of going to unversity hardly existed any more. 

On the way to the library, they passed a cinema and Emma's attention was caught by one of the posters on the wall outside. She had not wanted to do anything for such a long time that she was surprised to find herself stopped in the street and watching the entrance. 

Segundus said yes, of course, when she asked if they could, and they bought tickets to the last matinee of an action movie, the only film playing at that time. 

"I think that boy thinks we're together," said Emma. She looked back at the young man who had sold them their tickets, who watched intently as they walked the theater where the movie they were going to see was showing.

"If he does, he must not have seen a newspaper in the last year," muttered Segundus. "You're Lady Pole and I'm-"

Segundus had been called various things in the newspapers after being seen with Childermass in London and especially after it was picked up that he had been put on leave for their relationship. The worse the paper, the worse the name, though he didn't like to think of any of them at all. 

Emma looked back and the boy still watched them. 

They took their seats in the middle of the empty theater and waited. She saw Segundus look down at his phone for a moment. He thought he hid it, but sometimes, he looked at the websites where people gossiped about the magicians and more than once, in a second when he thought she had dozed off or wasn't paying attention, he had looked at a picture of Norrell's man.

"Do you love him?" Emma asked.

"John Childermass?" 

"Who else?" 

"Well," said Segundus. He stuck his phone back in his pocket. "I don't know if I do or not. We never...we never got very far in our relationship. I'll likely never get to find out." 

"Norrell," Emma muttered. 

Segundus made no comment. 

Soon after the movie started Segundus drifted off to sleep, like he always did when they watched television at home together or if they read for too long. Emma watched the movie on her own for a while, relieved to be out of the house and distracted and in the company of other people, living people doing nothing more interesting than watch a movie, even if they were strangers. 

About half an hour in, something white in the aisle over and and back caught her eye. She didn't want to turn to look because she knew what it was, but she did. For a second, the image on the screen skipped and halted and the oddest thing was that no one of the other handful of people in the theater said anything about it at all. There was a stillness in the room that Emma had been set apart from, a stillness that had been created for her. She was never sure, with what happened, how real these things were and her heart raced as she struggled to find out if she was asleep too and to wake if she was.

She twisted her face towards where she knew he must be, putting on this show for her. There in the middle of all of the empty seats full of people frozen in place sat the Gentleman and he had Stephen with him. The Gentleman gave her a nod and Stephen shook his head as to tell to stay where she was and then they disappeared. The movie resumed and but no one, except for Segundus, who stirred from his sleep with a surprised cough and a quick look around, acted like they knew anything odd at all had happened.

"I want to go," she said loudly. 

Segundus jumped and a woman sitting behind them made a noise for Emma to be quiet. 

"I want to go," she said again and stood this time and scrambled toward the end of the aisle. Segundus followed her as quickly as he could and threw many apologetic glances at the other patrons as he left. 

Segundus found them a ride once they were in the lobby of the the theater and Emma had begun to calm a little. Emma sat on a bench under a sign for a movie about aliens that would come out that summer and hugged her knees to her chest while they waited. It had been hard enough to stomach that she was taken away every night, but now that man had Stephen too and there were no constraints on when he could take him or if he ever had to give Stephen back. Since it had started happening, she lived in fear that one day he might not. 

The boy who had sold Segundus and Emma their tickets earlier watched them from his podium for a minute and then cautiously approached. 

"Is your sister okay?" he asked Segundus. 

"She's going to be fine, thank you," said Segundus at the same time as Emma told him to go away. The boy retreated quickly. 

Soon their ride arrived and they left. Once they were in the quiet of the car that would take them back to the Pole's, Segundus said,  
"Well, I guess he didn't think we were together after all." 

"Is that supposed to be the bright side of the afternoon?" 

"Well..."

Emma rested her head against the car window. She wanted to go home and see if Stephen had been returned. 

 

The book was so old that Segundus was afraid to take it down from its place on his shelf too often, especially now that it had been moved twice in the space of a few months; once to his new job and once from it, much more quickly than he ever would have thought. He hesitated to bring it down out of fear that the lined and cracked spine might split for good one day and shed the pages inside. But tonight he needed comfort and he took the book from its place and got into bed with it to read again. It had been a long day with Lady Pole and when he returned home that night and went to his room after dinner, he had looked at his bed meant for one person and his sparsely filled shelves and he was overwhelmed for a moment with a sadness that his life fit into this room that he again went back to alone. His favorite book was a small comfort he could not deny himself. 

The Children's Book of English Magic had his name written in the front cover in his mother's handwriting. When Segundus looked at it, he always spent extra time there, on the front page where the fading letters written in marker were, before he started to read. It was a habit he had begun over twenty years ago and could not abandon. Segundus had only gotten halfway through his favorite story when Mrs Pleasance knocked on his door. 

"You can come in," said Segundus, and his door opened. Mrs Pleasance put her head inside the room. 

"It's him," she said. "That man from the newspapers that you went to London to see. He's here." 

Segundus sat up in his bed. 

"John Childermass is here?"

"I can tell him to go away if you want." 

Segundus looked at the clock next to his bed. It was after 10:00 now. He was tempted to tell Mrs Pleasance to do just that.

"Did he say what he wanted?" 

"He just asked if you were here and if I thought you'd see him. I told him I'd have to ask." 

Segundus put the book on the bed and stood up. 

"I'll take care of it, Mrs Pleasance," he said. 

Segundus followed her downstairs. Childermass still stood in the entrance way to the house. He looked, thought Segundus, worlds better than the last time he had seen him, lying on a couch at Gilbert's Norrell's after he had been shot less than two days before. Though, Segundus noticed within seconds of seeing him that Childermass wore the same clothes he had last time they had met. Childermass did not have many clothes, so putting them to memory was not a difficult task if a person had known him more than a month. The shirt he wore now was with no doubt the one Segundus had helped him into in the bathroom of Gilbert Norrell's house after putting a fresh bandage over the place where he had been shot. There was a small pocket just there and Segundus' eyes, as he hit the last step, traveled for a second to Childermass' right shoulder, where he knew there would now be a scar. 

He stopped briefly at the bottom of the stairs and Mrs Pleasance stood in the space between him and Childermass. 

"Thank you Mrs Pleasance," said Segundus. 

Childermass had spoken at the same time and said the same thing and their eyes met in the moment their sentences ended. Mrs Pleasance gave each of the men a smile and said she was going to bed and then left them. 

"What are you doing here?" asked Segundus. He took the last step down from the stairs and into the living room. Down the hall Mrs Pleasance's door closed and they were, for the first time in nearly three months, alone. 

"Can we-" 

Childermass titled his head toward the door. 

"I don't want to bother your landlady. You wouldn't mind a walk, would you?" 

"I don't guess so," said Segundus. He moved toward Childermass, who still stood near the place by the door where his and Mrs Pleasance's jackets hung. He had only taken a step when Childermass took the jacket from its place and handed it to him. Segundus put it on without speaking and the two men left the house in silence. 

"I hope it's not too late," said Childermass one they were outside. He led them away from Mrs Pleasances', down the sidewalk and past the small, square front gardens of the neighbors. "I thought it might be better this way. Less people out to follow us, bad lighting for pictures if anyone was inclined to try to take any." 

"It's fine," said Segundus. He looked down at the ground as he walked. "There's not really a job to protect any more. I likely won't teach again anyway, once it comes out that I've been helping cover for Emma Pole." 

Childermass stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk and Segundus nearly walked into him. The second before he stopped himself was the first time he had looked up at Childermass since they had left Mrs Pleasances'. In the second before they both blinked, Segundus found himself trying put to memory the particular brown of Childermass' eyes, which had been sure he had known very well. When he caught himself, he looked away.

"I'm sorry," Childermass. "I didn't even think of that. I shouldn't have gotten you involved." 

Segundus shrugged. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his eyes drifted back to the ground as he started to walk again. Childermass caught up within a few steps.

"She's safe where she is," said Segundus. "Safer than she would be anywhere else. And I think what's happening to her is very important." 

"I think so too."

They had reached a small park a few blocks from Mrs Pleasance's and at the entrance, they paused and decided together at the same time to enter. They stayed on the path until they reached a bench under the cover of a tree in the very early stages of a spring bloom and they sat together. 

"Norrell is very nervous that this whole thing with Lady Pole stay quiet," said Childermass.

"And not for her good either, I'd bet," said Segundus. 

Childermass did not respond except to slouch further and make an obvious effort not to roll his eyes, which made Segundus wonder why he didn't just do it in the first place. 

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he asked. "Because I still don't trust that what I tell you won't make it back to him."

"Segundus." Childermass sighed and said his name again, much more softly. 

"Segundus."

Childermass put his hand on his arm. Segundus felt that he should move it and was annoyed with himself for how welcome the feeling of Childermass' touch was despite all that had happened. He looked down at the hand on his jacket and it moved slowly down his arm, to the place where his jacket sleeve didn't yet meet his wrist. Briefly, before his hand dropped, Childermass' fingers drifted over the smallest bit of bare skin. 

"Have you told anyone? About the magic around her?" 

"Honeyfoot," said Segundus softy. "We go see him sometimes. She trusts him." 

"He doesn't feel it?"

"No more than anyone else who isn't the two of us," said Segundus. 

"It's on you. I can-" 

There was a long moment where the two men's eyes met again. Their chests moved with breath a handful of times before the gaze broke. 

"I can feel it on you," said Childermass. "The magic." 

Segundus thought for a moment that he recognized the type of pause that had come before their first kiss on the ground of the school. He thought of moving his to take Childermass' since it was so close, but neither thing happened. 

"There was something else," Childermass said. He pulled a piece of folded up paper from his back pocket and handed it to Segundus. 

It was a recent newspaper clipping that showed a small group of teenage boys in front of some of the school's trophy cases. At the front of them stood Henry Lascelles. 

"He's started some sort of club. The richest boys from the most influential families. And, of course, Christopher Drawlight. All of them are following Lascelles." 

"Good for Norrell," said Segundus. "That will be very convenient for him in a few years, if it isn't already. I'm sure their parents are being very helpful."

Segundus tried to hand the picture and the article back to Childermass, but he pressed it back toward him.

"John. Two more teachers have been fired since you left and I'm sure this group is behind it. And both of them teach the same subject." 

"My old one?"

"No," said Childermass. "Art." 

Segundus looked down at the paper and scanned the article. 

"Why?" 

"I don't know," said Childermass. "I'm going to the school tomorrow to meet with them for Norrell. I'll to try to find out more then."

He returned the paper to his pocket, where Segundus saw that it nestled next to the cards Childermass carried around. 

"I think I want to go home now," said Segundus. 

Childermass unfolded himself from his slouch and took the first step from the bench as Segundus stood. He reached into his pockets again, this time for a cigarette and lighter. 

In front of Mrs Pleasance's house, Segundus made sure to stand away from Childermass and he said goodbye quickly. His loneliness was heavy tonight and it would be too easy to do what he had felt like more and more and as the evening went on and kiss Childermass or let himself be kissed, if Childermass moved toward that first. With Childermass close, where he could see him again, see his body wearing clothes he remembered and smell his cigarettes on him, the regret of what he could have had stung Segundus. He could not help but imagine a scenario where he could invite Childermass upstairs and not sleep alone tonight, one where Childermass would not afterwards leave him for London before a few days had passed. There was nothing to do but end the night quickly and he did.

"Running isn't necessary, it it?" asked Childermass. He looked into the space Segundus had put between them and crossed his arms at it.

"I'm not running."

Childermass rolled his eyes and Segundus turned away, shaking his head, but he turned back around to Childermass nearly as quickly as he had turned away. 

"It's easy for you," Segundus said. "You are not alone. You have the magical career you've always wanted. I have-"

He stopped suddenly. He had been going to say nothing and Childermass knew it. All of the annoyance Childermass had shown seconds before was gone, replaced with a look that was at first shock that changed as Childermass frowned.

It only took a second for Childermass to move, another for him to reach the place right in front of Segundus. There was no time after that before the kiss, the one that happened when they reached for each other at the same time time. Segundus felt the back of his head hit the door, rugged hands holding his face and his mouth opened to accept a smoky kiss. They stayed that way until they were out of breath and pulled apart with an identical set of soft gasps. Segundus let himself bury his face in Childermass' neck for a moment to make a last memory and his hands, still wrapped around Childermass' back, slid into the back pockets of his jeans, moving them closer together at the hips. Childermass groaned faintly into his ear and his lips, when he did, grazed his earlobe. Segundus thought he heard him say the start of his name, their name, as he pulled away slightly. He unwrapped his arm from around Childermass and reached behind him for the door handle. 

"Please," he said. But their hands were close enough to touch and they did and an experimental grip turned into ten fingers on two different hands knit together. "If you asked me, I don't think I could say no. Not tonight." 

Segundus had pulled away only a little and with the smallest tilt forward of Childermass' head their cheeks rested together. 

"Why do you have to say no?" 

"I can't- not when this ends with you across the country again." 

"There are worse things than being separated for a while," said Childermass. "Aren't there?" 

"It wold not be for a while and you know it. It sounds like you are offering me tonight in consolation when what I would really like is...well, you. " 

Segundus felt Childermass' sigh against his neck. 

"That is not it at all, John Segundus." 

Each man took a deep breath and Childermass dropped Segundus' hand before stepping back. 

"Goodnight, John," said Segundus. He reached behind him for the door knob again and this time, he turned it and stepped inside. "You look well and I'm happy for you." 

He went back into the house and up to his room, where he read The Children's book of English Magic until he fell asleep on top of his covers with his clothes on. 

 

Jonathan Strange did not notice what time it was until he saw his wife approach the open door to his study. 

"I am coming to bed," he said. He didn't fully look up from the screen as he spoke and one hand ran through his hair as he finished giving something there a half frown that twisted in the end into a smirk. "Norrell just sent me something but I told him it would have to wait until tomorrow. Or I will tell him." 

"That's fine, Jonathan. But there was something I wanted to talk to you about before it got too much later." 

As annoyed as he was at Norrell's persistence, Strange was unable to not read at least the first sentence of what he had sent him, but he pulled his eyes away from the screen and back up to his wife.

"You're very serious, Bell." 

"Oh, nothing is the matter. It's just that, they would like me to come back for a while." 

"Who does?" 

Strange's eyes trailed back to the computer and he began to read the second line. His wife walked into the study and stood to the side of his desk. 

"My old job. And I think I might say yes." 

Strange, halfway through the third sentence, stopped reading. 

"What?" 

"They've lost another teacher and they want me to come back for the rest of the term. I think it might be something I want to do." 

Strange closed the computer and looked up at his wife. Her long hair was pulled back like it often was when they went to bed, done up in the loose bun he liked to undo when they lay next to one another.

"Aren't there any art teachers already in that part of the country?" asked Strange. He put his hand on his wife's thigh and she rested hers on top of it. "Ones that aren't my wife?" 

"Of course there are other teachers, love. It's just two of them have gone since I left. And I think they believe I'm the best person for the job."

"Well," said Strange. He lifted his wife's hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss and then took it in his. "You are definitely better than those other people in every way and I'm not surprised that they want you there, because I want you here." 

"I promise, you'll hardly notice I'm gone, with as busy as Norrell keeps you," she said. 

"I promise you, I will." Jonathan Strange paused and squeezed his wife's hand. "I can talk to him. I can be here more." 

"You're doing very important work and you're one of only two people in the country who can do it. If I asked you to do that, it would be very selfish of me. Besides, you love doing magic, even if you don't always love Norrell." 

"Do you want to go?" 

"If you're asking if I want to be away from you, of course I don't. But I like teaching and I miss my job and my brother. We'll be fine for two months and then I'll be home for the summer. Maybe I can make Norrell spare you for a week of holiday in June.

Aranbella Strange leaned down and kissed her husband, first a short kiss to his moth and then another to the top of his head, as he was so fond of doing to her. 

"It is only for two months," said Strange. "That's not so long." 

"No, it really isn't. It be over before we know it." said Mrs Strange. "Now, come to bed, will you?" 

She stood and took her husband's hand and led him from study. Strange shut the light off behind him and happily followed his wife to bed. 


	15. The First Lady of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go baldy for everyone after the death ("death") of a very beloved woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, alas, do not have the luxury of spending millions of words to finish this with Susanna Calrke's complexity. I have had to condense the plot significantly which will inevitably affect other things as relationships change a bit plot points are left out. I can only hope it all works and that I have interpreted the characters well enough the relationships transfer decently!  
> (Also, AO3 randomly started to not put in paragraph breaks when I added them, so I had to improvise. I am very sorry the mess that glitch has made.)  
> (Also part 2, I promise, dear readers, to really bring the sexy for the next chapter when we return to the Johns' romance a bit more. There is a draft and everything! )

The sun threatened to rise at any moment and Childermass had come from his room. Norrell heard him step outside to smoke, heard him in the kitchen. 

He only had moments moments now. 

In a way Norrell was glad to have the night over. He had laid in bed tense the whole night, dreading this moment that he no longer had to dread. It was here and it sounded like Childermass shutting the balcony door. Norrell would be glad to have the day over too. All he had to do was get up from his bed and go out into it.  


In the kitchen, Childermass ran water, opened and shut a cabinet, set two mugs on the counter with synchronized thuds. Norrell heard it all and each noise, though it shouldn't have been a surprise, jolted him.

Gilbert Norrell thought he had hated the one wedding he had been to. He was sure he would hate this worse. 

Childermass had gone out yesterday and bought a black suit for him. It hung on the back of the door of his closet, a black tie on the hanger with it. He had hated looking at the thing all the night, hated knowing it was waiting for him.

Footsteps approached the door to his room. 

"I know!" he called, before Childermass could knock.

On the other side of the door, Childermass said nothing. After a pause, he walked away. Norrell could tell by the noise he made going to back to his room that Childermass was already in the dress shoes Norrell had seen him polishing yesterday. 

Gilbert Norrel gave himself give five minutes more. Then he got up and faced the black suit he would have to wear to Arabella Strange's funeral. 

***************

Norrell gripped the tea in his hand and watched a man that he knew was very familiar but whose face he couldn't place approach Strange. It came to him in the moment Childermass leaned in to remind him. The man had just waked in front of a picture of Strange's wife. It was hard not to see the resemblance. 

"That is her brother," said Norrell. 

Childermass nodded. 

"They are-" 

Norrell shook his head at himself. 

"They were twins." 

Childermass nodded again. 

Norrell had no brothers or sisters, certainly not ones who been with him since the day of his birth. Neither did Childermass, but Childermass seemed to understand somehow. He had spoken to the man earlier, and to Jonathan as well, like he knew, even though he had never buried a sister or a wife. 

"Would you like to speak to him, Mr Norrell?' asked Childermass. 

"Mrs Strange's brother?" 

"Mr Strange," said Childermass. "I think you should." 

Norrell gripped the little paper cup of tea harder and lifted it to his lips. It was cold. 

"He is so sad, Childermass." 

Strange's face was incomprehensible to Norrell. Norrell had seen it the moment that Strange had done magic for him for the first time in his office at the school, in a moment of happiness. That, he understood; the joy of producing magic was a thing that did not need explaining to him. But this face, this face where everything had moved so far from Strange's normal smile, was not a thing he knew what to do with. "

He does not want to speak to me," said Norrell to Childermass. "He is with his brother in law. All of his friends have come. And see? He has so many." 

"Mr Norrell..." Childermass began. 

Strange looked across the room at the them and Norrell flinched. 

"He is your pupil. He is half of what you've worked all of these years for." 

Childermass put out his hand and Norrell, after a pause, put the tea into it. Norrell stood and slowly made his way across the room. 

He stared at his feet at first when he got to the place in front of Strange and could not make himself look up. 

"Mr Norrell." 

Norrell held his breath. 

"Thank you for coming." 

******************

 

Emma Pole would not stop screaming. 

Segundus and Walter stood outside the door to her room and listened to the shouts that carried through it and then past then down the rest of the house. Both men had eyes reddened by lack of sleep and they recoiled with each new shout from inside her room. She had started to go hoarse yesterday afternoon and today the screams were occasionally punctuated with croaks as her voice gave out. Sometimes entire words or parts of sentences would disappear into one of these croaks and she would replace them with something thrown against the wall. 

"It's too much," said Walter. Inside his wife's room, there was a thud as halfway through a word, Emma Pole's voice cracked and whatever she had been trying to say was sucked down into the hole created when her speaking disappeared suddenly. Probably she had thrown a shoe this time. The lamp she had thrown in the morning had made a much worse sound. "It's too much for her. I should take her to the hospital." 

"No!" said Segundus 

Emma had begged him in her own way when he first came to not let them give her any more medication and he had been doing his best to make sure that even in pain and scared, she was alert and aware like she wanted. She said he was the only one who knew what was really wrong, the only one who would listen. So, he listened. Walter had been easy to convince because after Segundus came, she had started to grow calmer. Until yesterday. 

Segundus had not gone back to Mrs Pleasance's the night before. He stayed on the couch to help when Emma woke up and to sit with her while Walter grabbed a few minutes sleep. The men alternated sitting with her, walking the house with her, and taking rounds of fitful sleep. 

"Do you hear her?" Walter Pole rubbed at his forehead as a another shoe hit the wall. "God, I wish Stephen were here. Where is he?"

"I do hear her," said Segundus. "I do- let me try to talk to her." 

Segundus knocked on the door to Lady Pole's room and the screaming stopped. 

"Emma? Can I come in?"

There was quiet on the other side of the door and Emma Pole tried to speak. 

"There was- fuck! There was once a lady of- no, no, no. Fuck! Yes, Segundus, you can come in." 

He opened the door to Lady Pole's room and stepped inside.

Emma Pole had thrown herself onto her bed and drawn her knees to her chest. Her hair was spread all around her, gray interspersed with the dark brown.

"Emma?"

"Segundus," she said. "Please. Do something."

"Emma," he said. He stepped a cautious step closer to the bed. "Please. I know you're sad about Mrs Strange but-" 

Emma Pole pulled herself up. She grabbed at Segundus' shirt and began to speak quickly, as though maybe this time she could be faster than the curse on her. After reaching the end of another sentence of babbling, she let go of Segundus' shirt and fell forward on the bed, covering her head with her arms. 

"This is important, isn't it?" Segundus asked. She nodded her head but did not look up. 

"Please," said Segundus. He knelt down next to the bed. "Try again. Please." 

She shook her head into her pillow at first but sat up a second later. She pushed her hair back from her face and Segundus saw that her eyes were large and wild, but not in the way they were when she wandered the house at night fighting sleep. Emma Pole had, for a moment, stopped being scared. She jumped from the bed and ran to the door of the room and flung it open. Her husband jumped back and she ran past him, down the stairs and to the living room. 

Segundus and Walter followed Emma and by the time they had joined her downstairs, she had picked up a book from one of the shelves and was leafing through the pages frantically. She pointed at a word and looked at where her finger landed. She stared at her finger on the page with tears of happiness in her eyes and ran to Segundus. 

"Help?" 

"Yes!" said Emma. She scanned the next page of text and she again jabbed at a word with her finger. 

"Her. Help her?" 

Emma Pole slid to the floor, sobbing. She nodded her head over and over again and clutched the book to her chest. 

"Yes," she said. "Please. Do that. I can't say it, but that. Do that, please." 

"Who?" asked Walter. He looked back and forth between Segundus and his wife. "Who should we help?" 

Emma dropped the book to the floor and used her husband's hand to pull herself up. She filled her lungs with a steadying breath and wiped her face with the back of her hands.

I've done it, she thought. She wondered if somewhere the fairy knew what she had managed. For the first time in months, she allowed herself a smile. 

She began to look around again and turned in a half circle as her eyes searched every surface they could find. From the living room, she could see the large dining area and on the long table there, next to a forgotten cup of tea from the morning, was a newspaper, still folded neatly. Emma, much calmer now that she had managed to communicate, walked into the room and retrieved it. She knew it would carry what she needed.

She brought the newspaper back and handed it to Walter. 

There was a picture of a dark haired woman on the front page, a pretty dark haired woman smiling. "Nation Mourns First Lady of Magic", said the headline. 

"My friend," said Emma. She could say at least those two words. She motioned at the book again, still in her husband's hands.

"Help her," repeated Segundus.

And Emma Pole nodded. 

 

Henry Woodhope and John Childermass had proved a decent pair at handling the barrage of visitors, the piles of flowers from the people of London, the phone calls that Strange ignored while he was shut in his room. 

The funeral for Arabella Strange had been yesterday and Strange had not come from his room since he and his brother in law had arrived at the house in London the evening before when Strange had unexpectedly decided after the burial to return there. All that was according to what Henry Woodhope had said when he phoned that morning. Twelve hours after Strange shut himself away, Mr Woodhope had called the only person he could think to call that was in London and might be able to help; Gilbert Norrell. Gilbert Norrell had not come and the Reverend Woodhope thought that probably for the best considering Norrell's squinting confusion at the funeral yesterday. Childermass had come though and had gone about quietly helping Woodhope keep the growing pile of tasks under control while Strange stayed in his room. 

Childermass picked up another armful of bouquets from outside the door and at the bottom of Strange's front steps, a skittish young man who just been to leave one of them and had stayed to take a picture of the pile of flowers outside the second magician's house scattered at the sight of the tall, frowning man who appeared in the doorway. Henry Woodhope came to the door and stood behind Childermass as he filled his arms with flowers. 

There were nine bouquets this time. 

"He's still saying straight to the garbage," said Henry. 

Childermass nodded. He walked to the bin that sat next to the stairs and put them all inside. 

"Such thoughtful gifts. What will people think?" asked the Reverend. 

"I don't think that Mr Strange cares what they think," said Childermass as he shut the lid. "That is sort of the point."

He walked past Henry Woodhope into the house and let the door shut behind him. 

Childermass sat down at the table and began to sort through the stack of condolence cards that had arrived with the day's post. Henry Woodhope stood just behind. 

"Do you want any of these?" asked Childermass. "She was your sister. I don't think Strange would mind if took you them. Or some flowers either." 

"I...don't know." 

"I'll set the cards aside then. You'll have plenty of flowers to chose from, if you want them."

He sat three down and then placed two more on top of them.

"I issued a statement," said the Reverend Woodhope. Childermass groaned. 

"Are you sure you should have done that?" he asked. 

"Someone had to. Jonathan hasn't said anything. I had to tell the truth. People were saying that she had left him, that she was staying with me because they had fought, because he ignored her. They said he was bad husband." Henry Woodhope folded his arms across his chest. "It wasn't true."

Childermass wondered what would happen if Strange caught the news tonight and saw that his brother in law had spoken for his family. 

"Do you have any siblings, Childermass?" 

"No." 

"Then you can't know. You can't know what it's like." 

Childermass bundled the stack of condolence cards with a rubber band from his pocket and handed them to Woodhope. 

"I liked Mrs Strange a lot. Everyone did. I'm very sorry for your loss." 

Henry Woodhope looked down at the stack of envelopes in black gray that he held in his hand. 

"Bell was always there. She's always been there. There were only two minutes..." Henry Woodhope clutched the condolence cards. "There were only two minutes between us, you know." 

"I didn't," said Childermass. "But I could tell you were close. Again, I'm sorry."

Henry backed away from the table, the cards still gripped tightly in his hand. 

"Go make some tea, Mr Woodhope. Relax for a while." 

Childermass helped answer a few more phone calls, cleared another half dozen bouquets from the doorstep before he left, and then went back to Norrell's.

The house was quiet when he arrived. Norrell too had been in his room since Mrs Strange's funeral. The crowd of people trying to speak to him, the reporters on the periphery of everything, his shock at seeing Strange's face for the first time since his wife's death; all of it had been too much for Norrell. 

After returning from Strange's and finding the place dark and quiet, Childermass went immediately to his room and he locked the door. 

Segundus had called yesterday at 3:00 A.M. Childermass had heard screaming in the background of the call, a woman's screaming. He did not need to ask who it was. On the verge of tears, Segundus had told him everything; the roses at Emma Pole and Stephen's mouths, each thing Lady Pole had said when she tried to speak, the notes he had made on them. And Childermass had told him about the book he had seen the day Norrell raised her from the dead. 

Armed with this new information, he pulled his cards from his pocket, and he as he laid the first two out, he begged for them to tell him something useful. 

 

It had been a bad idea to take the newspaper. 

Everything was Strange. All of it. Pictures of him and his wife on their wedding day, pictures of the teary eyed brother shaking hands at the funeral, pictures of the front of Strange's house, the flowers waiting outside.  


Norrell turned the paper over so that he didn't have to see the pictures any more, then he got up and put it in the garbage. 

He tensed at an unexpected noise invading the quiet and then, when he realized it was just Childermass finally returning home, he let out the breath he held.  


When Childermass entered the house, Norrell saw that his hair was wet and his jacket beaded with water. He turned to the window and noticed that it was raining, though he could not have said, for anything, how long it had been  


"What happened today?" asked Norrell, standing up from the couch. Childermass had gone over each day after the funeral for a few hours and Norrell was always more nervous when he was gone. Childermass took off the wet jacket and hung it by the door and slipped out his shoes. He was too quiet. 

"Something is wrong," said Norrell. He sat back down on the couch wringing his hands. Childermass sat down next to him. 

"Mr Strange says he is leaving."

"Mr Strange says what?"

It was the news Norrell had been dreading each time he looked at his phone and saw that Strange had not returned a call. Or several calls. 

"He is leaving." 

"London?" Norrell asked. But he knew the answer. 

"The country. He decided yesterday and started preparing to leave today. He plans to come to speak to you tomorrow, but I thought I should warn you so that you're not too surprised. As soon as he's found someone to rent the houses, he's leaving England." 

"Rent the houses!" Norrell sputtered. 

"People do rent out houses when they leave for extended periods," said Childermass. 

Norrell thought for a moment. 

"But he will not sell? So, he intends to come back?" 

Childermass sighed. 

"He did not say." 

"Will he do magic wherever he is?" 

Childermass sighed again. 

"Mr Norrell, he did not say." 

*******

When Strange arrived at Norrell's the next day, he was shaved and his hair brushed and he was altogether more presentable than he had been in the week since his wife's death. 

The few times Childermass had seen him when he had gone to over to Soho Square to help Henry Woodhope, Strange had worn clothes that were wrinkled, likely slept in, possibly multiple times. But today, curls brush back from his forehead and his face smooth and wearing neatly ironed clothes, Strange looked as well as any time he had appeared on television, any time he had been on a newspaper or magazine, any time he had given a speech or met with someone important. Childermass had not let Norrell go to his room in anticipation of the meeting, so he sat on the couch, waiting for Strange with his hands knotted. 

Strange stood watching Norrell fidget for a moment in the door before coming further inside, only a few steps. 

"Did you get the flowers, Mr Strange?" asked Norrell. Norrell hadn't thought that Strange would like them at all. and Childermass had agreed, but they were sent in the end anyway. It was not as though Norrell could do nothing in the wake of the death of Arabella Strange. 

"I did," said Strange. He looked down at the floor. "Thank you." 

Childermass stepped away from Strange and toward the door to his room. 

Both Strange and Norrell turned toward the movement. 

"You will leave?" asked Norrell. 

"I think it's better if you speak alone. Mr Strange?" 

It took Strange a long moment to decide on a nod. 

Norrell gave him a quick, frightened glance but Strange moved forward into the room and Childermass away from it after what he hoped was a comforting nod to Norrell. 

In his room, Childermass waited for the sounds of the house to change in the soft ways they did when a difficult conversation was over. He opened the door to his room and went back into the living room in time to see Norrell in the process of making his escape down the hallway. 

"I'll see Mr Strange off," said Childermass and Norrell retreated quickly. 

Strange and Childermass were alone and it was too warm to buy time reaching for jackets or coats, so they stood still for a moment before Strange took the first step toward the door. 

"Mr Strange. Before you leave. There's something I think you need to know." 

"Yes?" 

"The day after your wife's funeral, I spoke to John Segundus. He's with Emma Pole and she...she seems to think your wife is in some sort of trouble. " 

Strange ran his hands through his hair absently, looking around Norrell's house, totally quiet now that they had stopped speaking, now that Norrell had reached his room and shut the door. 

"Lady Pole is sick, Childermass. She doesn't know what she's talking about My wife went to visit her after she moved back for the spring and now she's upset she's gone. I hope she feels better soon, but- But Bell is gone." 

Childermass sighed. 

"I'm not so sure."

"About which? Lady Pole being sick or my wife being gone? They both seem like facts to me."

Childermass looked back toward the hallway where Norrell has just disappeared. He knew he should tell Strange about the book he had seen on the day Lady Pole was raised from the dead but he could not now. 

"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mr Strange." 

"No, Childermass. It's not that." 

Strange did not say anything more and Childermass did not either. He exited the house as quietly as he had entered and the afternoon and morning of quiet in Hanover Square was long. 

*************

Henry Lascelles paced his room, trying as hard as he could to ignore Christopher Drawlight, who attempted to follow him step by step, trailing him in their little dorm room. Drawllight sat down for a few minutes at a time if Lascelles scowled hard enough for long enough, but he was always soon up again and on Lascelles' heels. 

"What's going to happen?" Drawlight asked. 

"Nothing," said Lascelles. He stopped abruptly and Drawlight ran into him. Drawlight gave an exaggerated flinch like he had been hit and Lascelles scowled.  
"Nothing's going to happen to me anyway," he said. "You're the one who she caught selling counterfeit spells with her husband's name on them to the younger boys the week before she died. You know you were going to be expelled if she took that to the headmaster." 

Drawlight coveres his face and groaned pathetically into his hands.

"She never would have been here at all if we hadn't run those other teachers away so that she would come back. We planned it. You said Norrell would be happy if she was here, away from Strange. We should tell someone." 

"No," said Lascelles. "We shouldn't. There would be no point in that at all." 

Drawlight nodded feebly and sat on his bed. 

"You haven't said anything, have you?" 

"No, Henry!" 

"Good." 

Drawlight nodded again several more times,each more fervent than the one before, like he could convince his friend that their secret was safe with him, a thing Lascelles knew was not, in the slightest true.

***********

On opposite sides of the country, two men, at the same time, shut themselves away in their rooms and picked up their phones 

Segundus was in the bedroom that Walter Pole insisted he take since he was there every night night helping care for Emma and had been for a week now. Childermass was in his more familiar room in the London home of his employer, Gilbert Norrell. 

"Has she managed to tell you anything else?" asked Childermass. 

"No," said Segundus. "She cannot communicate that way any more. Something is stopping her now, like it stopped her in every way."

Childermass held the phone with one hand in in the other, he laid a card out in front of him on the bed. 

"I tried," said Childermass. "I tried to tell Strange." 

"I know." 

Segundus knew he should try to sleep while he had a chance, but he did not at all want to stop talking to John Childermass. He lay on down on the bed in the Pole's guest room and looked up at the ceiling. 

"John," he said. "I understand now. That night. The last time we saw each other." 

There was a long pause on Childermass' end. 

"What about it?" he asked. 

"It wasn't a trade off you were offering. It wasn't one night instead of you. It was all you could offer and you did." 

Childermass responded with a sigh that Segundus could very easily imagine moving his tall, thin body. 

"And I am sorry now I didn't take it. On nights like tonight, I wish I had one memory with you, even a bittersweet one." 

"Maybe," said Childermass, "there will be another time. If we're lucky." 

The conversation ended soon after that. In one room, John Segundus fell asleep for half an hour in a bed that was becoming too familiar, in a tense anticipation of being woken soon that was also too familiar. In another, John Childermass bundled up his cards in frustration before gathering up his cigarettes and leaving to go out into the night for a last smoke before trying to sleep. 


	16. The New Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic wakes up in England, and it wakes up in John Segundus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, weirdness with AO3 and formatting again, but only a bit thankfully.

The month of June passed, by turns, quickly and slowly for John Segundus. 

The days seemed to go by faster than the nights. There was cooking to do during the day, there was sitting in front of food and trying to eat it. There were walks to take or not take. If he were to go on one of those walks, there was a chance of seeing people who would nod to him; people who would remind of the world outside of the Pole's home. 

There was a long stretch of sunny weather in the weeks that followed Jonathan Strange's departure for Italy at the start of the month and though he didn't need any help wearing himself out, Segundus used the afternoons when Walter could help with Emma to take long walks around the neighborhood. The sunlight and the presence of other people made him nearly forget what was happening. 

It was the nights that lasted forever, the nights of helping keep Emma Pole safe from herself, the nights of trying to stay awake with her. It was the hours when Walter took over for him and he went back to bed and lay there, tense and waiting until a fragile sleep overtook him for a while. It was early summer and though the time between the sun setting and rising was short and the darkness very delicate, ready to be broken quickly by an early sunrise, the nights seemed long and inescapable. 

June passed. 

On July first, a heatwave broke in the early hours of the morning with rainstorm. 

The cool air of the morning and the cloud cover keeping away, for that morning, the brightness of the sun made it easy to sleep in and Segundus woke much later than usual, after much more sleep than he had gotten for the last month. The morning seemed at first no more special than for that; for a feeling of restfulness and the welcome coolness of his room and the surprising sound of quiet that, once it sunk in, made Segundus rush from his bed and to the door of his room.

Emma Pole opened the door to her room when she heard Segundus open the door the door to his and put her head outside. Her hair fell around her shoulders and she had not changed out of her pajamas yet.

"Good morning."

"Emma? Are you okay? Where's Walter?"

"Office." 

She look a long look at Segundus, clearly waiting for something as she watched him. "You really have forgotten," she said. 

"Forgotten what?" 

"It's the first." 

Her eyes widened when his only response was, at first, more silence, when what she was waiting for still did not happen. And then, it did. 

"Oh. That." 

Emma Pole smiled as much as she could and pulled from behind her back a card tucked inside an envelope, with the name Segundus' name written on the front. 

"Happy birthday, John." 

 

Something was wrong with Jonathan Strange. 

"What do you mean?" asked Norrell when Childermass told him this. He furrowed deeper into his chair and partially covered his view of his man of business by lifting his book in front of his face and resuming his reading. "Is it the girl? That's normal, isn't it? Strange never did like being alone, anyway."

"Mr Norrell, it's not Flora Greysteel, it's-" 

"Your cards again, Childermass? All the time with those cards." 

Childermass rolled his eyes. 

"You are happy to listen to them when it suites you. It just doesn't suit you now because you're angry at Strange that he has left and doesn't want to study with you any more." 

"Why shouldn't I be angry?" asked Norrell. He shut his book with a snap but then was forced to look at Childermass' frown. "Jonathan Strange has thrown away all of his potential. And England's as well." 

Norrell did not tell Childermass that he thought it as well, that Strange might be in trouble. He did not tell Childermass that he had again done the spell to see what his enemy was doing. Strange had turned every mirror in the house in Italy away from himself, so Norrell was treated to the sound of Strange walking around and humming to himself and after Norrell had listened for a few minutes to Strange saying, "I know you're there. Go away." He did not tell Childermass of the fear had felt at hearing nothing but the sound of Strange's pacing feet. He did not tell Childermass the chill Strange's humming gave him. 

"Will you not listen at all?" 

"Strange is a powerful magician. If he choose to go to go Italy and do magic he has been told not to do, then let him. He is powerful, as everyone is so quick to remind me." 

"Mr Norrell," said Childermass. "You are powerful as well. Will you let this happen to your pupil? To England's other magician?"

Norrell's hands trembled as he gripped the book and he knew that Childermass had seen it. 

"What?" he asked quietly. "What could I do for Jonathan Strange? He does not need me. I'm not sure that he ever has."

"You will not know what you can do for him," said Childermass, "if you do not ask."

 

"I won't apologize!" Emma said. 

But a second later, after looking at the shocked faces of her husband and Segundus staring at the television she had just destroyed, she changed her mind. 

"I'm sorry, Walter." 

"Why?" he asked. A few feet in front of him, fallen onto its back and with a screen shattered by a book, was the television that had once hung on the wall. "What made you-" 

Segundus put an arm on his shoulder. 

"Norrell?" asked Walter. "Norrell was on the television so you-" 

Emma nodded, staring down at the floor.

"Walter, I'm sorry. I was reading and I saw him and...and the next thing I knew that had happened."

"Don't worry," he said. "We can get a new television." 

"Walter..." 

He took a pained step back from his wife and the scene in the living room.

"I'm sorry, I have some business I need to get to. Segundus, is there any way you can take care of this? I'll send Stephen in to help if he can."

Walter Pole wandered from the room before Segundus could say yes or no. 

"Sorry," Emma said again. She watched Segundus bend down to collect some of the shattered screen in his hand. "I don't know why I did that." 

"Yes, you do," said Segundus. "And this is the only way you can make yourself heard now, with whatever is going on. You don't need to feel bad. Just let us help, when we can." 

It was only 10:19 in the morning and the day was going to be very long. 

********************

Christopher Drawlight sat huddled in the corner of the coffee shop, taking sips from a coffee he didn't want but had to buy to justify his seat in the cafe. 

He stood up when Henry Lascelles entered, but then sat back down quickly under the scrutiny of his friend's frown as he made his way across the crowded cafe. Drawlight wished he had gone to the bathroom and washed his face now. Lascelles was so intolerant of obvious shows of emotion and his red eyes and tear stains were hardly going to go over well. 

"Thank you," said Drawlight as Lacelles approached the table and sat down in the seat in front of him "Thank you for coming." 

"So," said Lascelles. He leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and his nose in the air. "You've been kicked out of your stepdad's." 

Drawlight nodded. He sat down his coffee but picked it up again when not having something to do with his hands was more than he could handle. The cup shook in his hands and the coffee wobbled inside it so much that Drawlight didn't dare try to take a drink. 

"He's never liked me much, has he? I stayed with Dave Flowers last night. His mum likes me." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I was hoping...We're friends. Maybe I could- stay with your family? For just a while? I can go back to school in the fall, that's not a problem. It's only...For a while?" 

"No," said Lascelles. "That's impossible. We're going to France to see my father's family in a week anyway." 

Drawlight sniffled. He was nearly shaking and he wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his thin jumper. It was obvious he was on verge of breaking and Lascelles could not have that, not with Norrell the only magician in England and now, because of all of his work, a friend of his family's. 

"But, I can help, I think." 

Drawlight's eyes got even larger and began to fill with tears. 

"Really?" 

Lascelles took a napkin and wrote something down on it. 

"Tomorrow," he said. "Meet me there." 

He paid for Drawlight a scone and cup of tea and then left. 

Drawlight took down the instructions Lascelles had written and put them in his pocket. 

 

Walter and Mrs Pleasance both insisted that Segundus have the occasional night away from things and he took them at Mrs Pleasance's, in quiet.  
Segundus sat on the couch with the cup of tea he'd been just been brought and he watched the news, as he and the rest of the country did, for reports of what Jonathan Strange did while he was in Italy.

Strange had sent a few letters to Segundus since he had left and Segundus hated to admit that the rumors something might be very wrong with Strange had slowly started to seem like they might be true. 

One day, toward the end of the month, John Segundus woke with a buzzing in his head. When he listened, the buzzing formed sounds and then, he was sure that it said his name. When he sat up in bed, he felt he moved through a heavy curtain of smoke that he instinctively pushed away though he knew it wasn't a thing he could touch. There was a new layer to the world, just behind the normal things that had not been there when he went to bed and he couldn't help but feel it had been put there for him to see. It was not quite there yet but it lived in between blinks and it smelled of a muddy day in the early spring.  


He blinked away a wavering in his vision and several floating dots that danced in front of everything he tried to look at. The new layer to the world tried to line up to the old. Segundus reached for his phone and he called John Childermass. 

"Do they say your name?" Segundus asked. He did not explain that he meant the buzzing of voices because he knew that Childermass understood. 

"They do. Maybe John is the only thing they can say."

"Is this very bad or very good?" Segundus asked him. 

"I would say bad, most likely," Childermass. 

"But don't you feel...The other thing? Don't you feel that there is more now, than there was before? To you and to- well, to everything?"

"I do," said Childermass. "And I don't know what to make of it." 

"Maybe," said Segundus," we're not supposed to. Maybe it's supposed to make something of us." 

They went into their separate days and from time, across the country, the voices said their names at the same time, or a similar shadow that was not quite in England would move into their vision and then skitter back when it was seen. 

That was the day that the pillar appeared around Jonathan Strange. 

 

Childermass pounded at the door to Norrell's room and Norrell opened slowly, after a long wait. 

"You've heard?" asked Childermass. 

Norrell gripped the frame of his bedroom door and nodded feebly. The sickly nod, Norrell's grasp for purchase on the door, reminded him nothing as much as the number of men he had once seen getting their sea legs. 

"What does it mean, Childermass? This pillar?"

"I was hoping that you would know." 

Norrell peered around Childermass. Behind him, Norrell could see into the kitchen, and there was a joyous square of light that fell across a counter top. He exhaled an a enormous sigh. But he knew that this peace was not his for long. 

"He will come, won't he?" asked Norrell. "Strange will come for me, in the end." 

"Would he have reason to?" 

Norrell stared at the patch of light coming in through the window. 

"Mr Norrell. Why would Strange come for you?"

Norrell shivered and forced himself to look at Childermass. It was time to tell. 

"Childermass," he said. "John. I have done wrong."

"Mr Norrell?" 

"I have done wrong. And I do not know how to make it right."

********************

The day the pillar moved to England, the feeling of magic woke John Segundus so suddenly and with such force that he tumbled from his bed and onto the floor. 

His first thought was that he couldn't open his eyes and the second was that this feeling reminded him of nothing so much as it did of John Childermass. This feeling had preceded them sleeping in his bed together, had come after their first kisses, and had still been in the air when they fought and whatever had been growing between them ended as quickly as it had begun. Segundus thought, laying on the floor of his room and staring up at the ceiling, that he wanted few things more than he wanted John Childermass here to speak to about this.

To match the pounding in his head, there was one at the front door of the Pole's home from and her room across the hall Emma called for him. 

Segundus pulled himself up by holding onto his bed and he made his way to Emma first, crossing the room in a series of well timed stumbles.

"John?" she asked when she saw him. He opened one eye halfway, which was as much as he could bear, and saw her sitting on her bed, her chin rested on her knee. 

"I'm fine," he said. It wasn't a lie, necessarily. It was an overwhelming feeling that had overtaken him, an unusual one that, as far as he knew only one other person understood. But there was, underneath the swimming feeling in his head and stomach, a warmth, a pleasant sensation spreading in him and pulsing. It was almost like a second heart, a new one that he had just discovered after it had been put in his chest that morning. 

Walter Pole appeared in the door to his wife's room then and Segundus had to make a second assurance that he was alright. He was starting to wish that he had seen a mirror before he left his room. 

Downstairs, the knocking at the door continued and he heard John Childermass' voice calling. And Childermass called for him. 

"Walter-", he said. Though it made his stomach swim, Segundus could not help but turn toward the sound of his name coming from downstairs "Are you- can you?" 

"Of course," said Walter. "But how-" 

"I am fine." said Segundus for the third time in the space of as many minutes and he took a lurching step toward the stairs. 

He counted the the stairs one at a time on the way down to make sure he didn't miss any. It was something he and Emma had done from time to when she was ill and needed calming, A step, a number, a breath. A step, a number, a breath. He did that now, on his own, until his foot hit the last one.

At the bottom of the stairs, he followed the sound of Childermass saying his name to the door and he opened it. 

He forced his eyes open so that he could look at Childermass for the first time in months. 

"What are you doing here?" Segundus asked. 

Childermass had gone pale from the exertion of swimming against the magic, but Segundus could see by the light in his eyes that he also felt the other thing, the glowing something, the new warmth of the world. He could sense the second, magical heart beating in Childermass as well. And for the second before his eyes closed again, as they must under the feeling of the magic, he saw Childermass frowning in concern at him. 

His eyes shut again, but took with them the image of Childermass as he was on this early morning.

"I need to see Lady Pole," said Childermass. 

Segundus clutched the door to keep himself upright and Childermass did the same, his hand right above Segundus'. 

"How did you get here like this?" 

"Train," said Childermass impatiently. "Cab, feet. Will you let me see her? It's important."

Behind him, Segundus heard footsteps and then Walter Pole spoke. 

"Childermass? What's going on? Did Norrell send you?" 

"No. I'm here on my own. Please. I want to help." 

Childermass' hand slid down on the door frame onto his and Segundus opened his eyes again. 

"Please. I need to see her." 

Segundus turned back to look at Walter Pole, who nodded. 

"If she'll agree to it," he said. 

Segundus tried to take a step away from the door and found himself falling forward. Walter Pole caught him and righted him. 

"Hold on to me," he said to Segundus. "You too." 

Segundus had to keep his eyes closed but on the other side of Sir Walter he knew that Childermass was there and together, the three of them made their way up the stairs. 

At the door to Emma Pole's room, they stopped. 

Segundus heard her start to say something, but just she was interrupted by the sound of Childermass cursing in surprise. 

"What?" asked Walter. 

Segundus took a breath and forced his eyes open and he turned his face. On the other side of Sir Walter, Childermass stared at Lady Pole with his mouth open. 

"There are two of you," he said. "One of you is here, one is-" 

He gulped. It was the last thing Segundus saw before his eyes closed again. 

"Oh god, where is that place?" 

From the bed, Segundus heard Emma Pole begin to weep.

"You see it," she said. 

Childermass nodded. 

Walter Pole led them into the room and to his wife's bed where Childermass and Segundus sat on either side of her. The closer to Lady Pole he got, the worse the feeling and Segundus was forced to shut his eyes again. 

"I have something of yours, Lady Pole," Childermass said. 

Emma Pole gasped but he could not see at what. 

"Are you ready to be whole again?" he asked. 

"Yes," said Emma Pole. 

"John. Open your eyes. You have to see this." 

Segundus did and saw sitting in Childermass' hand an open box, a small box in a color he couldn't name, with a finger inside; a small, pale finger. 

"Is that-"

"Mine," said Emma. 

"Where did you get that?" asked Segundus. 

Childermass grimaced. 

"Jonathan Strange sent it to me. It's a long story. But we can restore her, I think, if we can return this to her," said Childermass. "Release her from wherever that other place is." 

"I see," said Segundus. 

The new part of him, the extra heart waking into life and flowing new blood into him, jumped inside Segundus as his breath caught in his throat. 

"How?" he asked. 

"You know," said Childermass. "Magic. It's the only way. It got her into this mess and it has to get her out. Strange and Norrell are gone, so it's me, Segundus. And it's you."

The room fell silent. Segundus felt he might tear in two, so great was the pressure of whatever was growing inside of him responding to Childermass' words. 

"I? Do magic?"

"The two of us can figure it out," said Childermass. "You're not alone here, John Segundus." 

Segundus' old heart, the one that had always been there, beat several times. 

"Okay," he said. "What spell?"

"Restoration and Rectification," said Childermass. "I had a long time to think about it on the way up here. You know it?" 

"I do," said Segundus. "We'll need to make the tool to go with it. Walter? Emma? We need something of hers to work with. Something to connect the magic to Emma. Anything will do." 

There were a few minutes of scrambling and Segundus thought that Walter left the room but in a few minutes, he had what felt like a hair ribbon and a spoon, and something else that he couldn't tell until he opened his eyes was a pen. 

"All of these are yours?" asked Segundus. 

Emma stared at them in her hand and then at Walter. 

"Yes," she said and as she spoke, her lips moved into a smile. 

His eye closed, Segundus twisted the things together. When he was finished, he sighed deeply. This was a magical tool in his hand. He was going to go magic. Segundus felt a shift in the weight on the bed and then a hand on his shoulder. 

"Go on," said Childermass. "Do the magic." 

Segundus took the finger from the box and placed it next to Emma's on the space on her hand where it so obviously belonged and he began to speak the words of the spell quietly to himself. Behind him, Childermass did the same. 

He felt hot inside, and weightless for a moment. As he felt the magic working, coming from the place it was inside of him and out into the world, doing the job it was meant to do as it fixed Emma Pole's finger into place, he was as happy as he had ever been. 

It was easy to do magic with Childermass. Their words flowed naturally together and the pace was gentle. He wasn't sure if it was the magic that did it, but the place where Childermass' hand rested on his shoulder tingled. 

His whole body jerked as the spell finished and there there was the loudest noise in his ears like a whoosh of air and he fell back into Childermass. He gasped and his breath come out ragged as he struggled to catch it in the wake of the magic he had done. Childermass held him upright and did not let him go.  


The other magic, the one that had surrounded Emma Pole for months like she was a fly in amber, cracked and broke away from her. It made crackling sound as it broke and floated away and Segundus instantly felt the ease of being release from its effects. His body shuddered. Childermass' hands were still on his back, keeping him steady. 

He looked around the room several times and took very long blinks as his vision cleared and the dizziness in his head began to dissolve. 

Emma Pole started talking and it was a long time before she stopped.

 

They were alone in the room and the magic burned the air. 

"Do you feel it?" 

Segundus waved his hand in front of his face and smiled to himself. 

"I do," said Childermass. 

The heat of the magic was strongest coming from Childermass and from himself. He could nearly see the waves it made and where it met in between them was a furnace. Why, thought Segundus, did nothing catch on fire? 

Childermass sat down beside him on the bed and put his hand on his knee. A shudder started that knocked through him completely and Childermass' hand, where it had met his body, jumped back like he had had a shock. 

"I," said John Segundus, "am a magician now." 

Childermass smiled and his hand slipped back into the magical space between them.

"You are." 

"And you as well." 

Childermass nodded at that, a tired nod paired with a tired smile at Segundus. 

"I have to go," he said. "There is-" 

He let out of a puff of frustrated air and lifted his hand in the air. 

"England," he finished. 

Segundus put his hand into the the space where their magic met as well and his fingertips met a tickling warmth when he did. 

"Can you return?" 

"I hope," said Childermass. "I'll try my hardest." 

"Before you go-" 

John Segunuds put all of himself into the warmth of their magic and kissed John Childermass. The world, in that moment, exploded into brightness.


	17. Final Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relationships develop and change. The story ends.  
> (Also; sex)

Over the course of the day, the tingling feeling of magic in the air scattered and the world returned slowly to normal, but Segundus felt still inside of him the trembling into wakefulness a new part of himself. It was one he knew now would not leave him. 

In the living room of the Pole's house, he sat with Emma while she made calls and paced and said everything that she had wanted to say for months. She did not exhaust herself at all but Segundus felt as though he had run miles and slumped onto the couch and watched Emma Pole have her first day fully back in England. Most of the magic that had been heavy around her for months was gone, but sometimes he felt a twinge of it on her still, waiting to break free and float away

All day, the news on the newly bought television in the living room followed the terrible dark pillar that had enveloped Strange and Norrell. There was little else so important to report, until an Italian station got word that a woman who looked like Arabella Strange had been brought to a local emergency room by the Greysteel family and later confirmed her identity. Slipped in among all of that when there was space was news of two missing boys, ones that John Segundus knew because he used to be their teacher: Henry Lascelles and Christopher Drawlight. 

Segundus did not want to, but by early evening, he was too tired to stay awake and Emma insisted that he go to his room and sleep for a while.  


He was not sure how long the while was, but when he woke again in the darkness of the Pole's guest room after falling asleep in the brightness of a summer afternoon, it was to extra warmth in the bed coming from a body not his own, and the familiar smell of cigarettes. 

Childermass lay beside him, sprawled onto his back 

Segundus had managed somehow in the hectic pace of the day of the day to dress but he hadn't undressed before sleep and he was sticky with sweat after hours of laying in bed on a summer day with all his clothes on, how many of them he didn't know with the added heat of another body not even an inch from his. 

Quietly, so as not to wake Childermass, he sat up and crawled to the end of the bed and over Childermass' legs. He walked across the bedroom and out of it without the other man in the bed waking. 

Segundus had not looked at the time but he knew that it was late because the house was completely still. 

He went down to the kitchen first and poured himself a glass of water when that was drunk, he splashed water on his face. He took a moment to sit learn against the counter feeling the cool water dripping down his neck. There was a note on the counter for him from the Poles telling him that they had left for the night to look for news of Stephen and would be back in the morning.

Back upstairs, Segundus went into the bathroom on the second floor of the Pole's house and he shut the door and turned the water to the shower on. He peeled off the sweaty clothes gratefully and stepped into the shower and pulled the clear curtain behind him. Segundus did nothing for several minutes but stand under the water with his eyes closed, shaking slightly from the excitement and disbelief of the day. 

Segundus heard the door open and he turned his face from the water. Childermass stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. The water beat down on Segundus' back and neck as he and Childermass looked at each other through the curtain. 

Segundus watched as Childermass undressed wordlessly and then approached the shower. 

Childermass pulled back the curtain and looked inside at Segundus standing naked under the water. Segundus was aware that he was being studied, and appreciatively, and the body that John Childermass watched so intently began to redden with a blush. 

"May I?" Childermass asked. 

Segundus nodded and Childermass stepped inside the shower. Childermass stood at the end of the tub for a moment and Segundus studied his body now, the first fully naked body besides his own that he had ever seen, one that Segundus noticed was becoming distinctly aroused by the sight of him naked. Childermass waited while Segundius looked at everything in turn. Then, Childermass walked up to him. He took Segundus into his arms and a moment, buried his face in Segundus' hair. Segundus put his face against Childermass' shoulder, very near a small scar the size of a bullet. 

Childermass held him and Segundus felt the movement of his chest as he sighed though the noise of the water dulled the sound if it. 

He is, I think, as happy as I am, as relieved to be here. The thought made him hold Childermass closer.

"May I?" asked Childermass again. 

Against his chest, Segundus nodded. Childermass had not specified what he was asking permission for, but he felt that yes would have been the answer to anything. 

Childermass turned Segundus around so that his back was pressed to him and he wrapped his arms around Segundus' stomach and began to kiss his neck and shoulder. Their wet bodies pressed together further and both men sighed. 

One of Childermass hands that rested on Segundus' stomach moved downward, past his hip and toward his thigh. Segundus' head fell backward onto Childermass shoulder, his mouth open in a sound of pleasure that he struggled to voice, and Childermas kissed him. It was a rougher kiss than Segundus had received from him before, but Segundus responded with the same. With the hand that was still around Segundus' stomach, Childermass pulled them even closer each man let escape a gasp escape into the kiss. 

The kiss ended with a moan from Segundus as he felt Childermass' take him, an experimental touch that moved into a slow stroking. 

"Here?" Segundus asked. 

"Not if you don't want," said Childermass. 

"I- Oh, god, John-" 

Childermass gave him a softer kiss and pulled away. 

"There is no rush," said Childermass. "We have time. And we may take it." 

Childermass took his time on each task that he set himself to next; the washing of John Segundus' hair, the soaping of his body and rinsing of it, the kissing and touching of his wet body as he worked. The water had begun to go cold by the time he was done, and Segundus trembled a bit, but the bathroom was warm and filled with steam. The men stepped out of the shower and wrapped themselves in towels. They returned back to the bedroom, dripping water onto the floor. 

Once the door closed behind them, they moved to kiss one another and towels were forgotten, dropped to the floor and they made their way to the bed holding each other, kissing whatever was closest to their mouths at the time and grabbing at each other's bodies.

The aching that had begun in the shower was nearly unbearable by the time Segundus fell back onto the bed with John Childermass pressed on top of him  


He could not be close enough to him, he knew it was not possible, but he wrapped a leg around Childermass in effort to bring more of their bodies together, to feel Childermass' arousal meet his. 

Childermass cursed and said his name in the same breath when he did that and Segundus was surprised to feel soft bite near his collarbone. There was a scream inside Segundus that wanted to escape but he kept it and his hands instead did the work of telling of Childermass, when they dug into his shoulder and then took hold of his hair when he was bit again. Childermass inhaled sharply at the feeling and Segundus had not known how much pleasure could be expressed with something so simple. Childermass looked down him.

"I don't think there's any need for quiet, John," said Childermass. "And I wouldn't mind hearing you say my name, if that's what you were holding back."

Segundus was happy, this firs time, to give himself over to Childermass, to let himself be moved gently into place, his body arranged among a series of new kisses into a position that he nodded to Childermass was something that he wanted. He was tired and he was relieved, this time, to let his lover guide things for them, happy to be taken as John Childermass wanted him taken. 

And Segundus found that John's name was an easy thing to say, that it felt as right as anything ever had. 

When it was done, for both of them, Childermass rested his forehead against Segundus', watching Segundus pant slightly underneath him. Childermass fell down onto the bed and curled his body against Segundus. He gave Segundus' forehead a kiss to the place he had moments ago rested his own and reached over to stroke his hair. 

"I hope that was alright for a first time, petal." 

Segundus nodded and reach to hold the nape of Childermass' neck gently. 

"I wanted it to be nice for you." 

Childermass said those words against his neck and Segundus felt each word tickle him. His voice was heavy with sleep and Segundus was pleased to learn, lying in John Childermass' arms in the small hours of the morning, that his accent got thicker when he was tired. 

"It was." Segundus paused. Childermass' facial hair rubbed against the soft skin of his neck and gave him a shiver. "I wanted the same for you."

Childermass gave what Segundus could only think of as a low, Northern sounding noise into the space behind his ear, something between a laugh and a growl. 

"I was worried that I wouldn't be very good," said Segundus, "compared with all the other people you've been with."

"All the others? How many are you imagining?" He stopped his nuzzling of Segundus' neck and law down with his head on his chest and yawned. "I am no Casanova. And I am very happy with you as you are." 

After several minutes more of lazy, wandering strokes across Segundus' thigh and then his side, Childermass gave him a soft kiss on his mouth and sat up. 

"Where are you going?" Segundus asked. 

"Just going to clean us up a bit. You stay there." 

Childermass retrieved one of the towels from the floor and returned to the bed with it. He spread Segundus' legs again and bent over him. Segundus lay still as Childermass used the towel to slowly clean him of the mess their love making had made. When he was done, he dropped it to the floor and lay back down next to Segundus.

That night, Segundus slept with John Childermass curled against him, the two of them making the most of the small space of a bed meant for one.

 

There was a rustle in the bed, and Segundus opened his eyes. John Childermass sat on the side of the bed and reached over the side of it for his trousers. Segundus watched him pull them over his long legs. 

"There's a lot to do today, John Segundus," Childermass said. "For two English magicians."

"Yes," said Segundus. He sat up in the bed as well. He was sure that when he blinked, he saw a bit of magic dart around Childermass quickly and then hide back inside of him. "There is." 

Segundus had forgotten he was naked until Childermass over him at him and did not look away. 

"I wish there was more time for this morning. A bed with you in it isn't easy to leave." 

"Don't worry about this one morning. I hope...I hope we'll have more."

"Yes," Childermass with a smile. "I think we can manage that. Just about." 

 

They wanted to come, but she told them not to. 

Emma and Henry had both announced their intent to fly to Italy and sit by her beside, but Arabella Strange surprised herself by asking them to please stay where they were. 

"I'll be home, soon," she said. She hoped they couldn't hear hospital noises in the back ground and tried to cover the mouthpiece of the phone when she wasn't speaking so that none sneaked through.

The girl, Flora, only left the hospital when she was made to by the doctors or her father. 

For a week Arabella Strange sat in the Italian hospital watching the end of July cook the city outside the window. Flora brought books until there were a stack by her bed. Arabella never read them, but she liked to look at them stacked on the table. They reminded her of Jonathan and their bed at home. 

After a week, the doctors had confirmed many times over that there was nothing wrong with her and finally let her leave. 

Arabella Strange had no clothes here but the ones she had appeared in, ones she had given to Flora and asked her to burn. Flora had gone and picked some things out for her though, and to go with the stack of books, there was a stack of clothes on the chair. When Arabella was discharged, she wore a green dress that Flora picked out. 

"I'm sorry," said Flora as they rode down in the elevator. "It's a mess out there." 

And it was. A crowd had gathered when they discovered at which hospital the wife of the magician who had brought the pillar of darkness to Italy was being treated, the woman who had been thought dead but fell through a mirror onto their soil. They were still there, a jumble of voices in accented English and Italian, dozens of phones raised, a few with outstretched bouquets and others with papers and pens held out, asking for her autograph. 

Flora wrapped an arm around Arabella and they ran for the car where her father and aunt waited. 

 

Henry Lascelles had been missing for three days when they found him. 

The two police officers responded at first to the reports of the sound of a gun being fired in the woods, of shouting that sounded like a young man, maybe two, but had at first found nothing. Then, this morning, a neighbor had heard the shouting again, something the person who reported it couldn't quite make out but that was, with no doubt, a person. The officers went to the woods and they searched again and this time, they found him. 

His blonde hair was a mess of caked mud and under his sunburned nose was a thin line of dried blood. There was something on his shirt that could have been more blood, or could have been any of a number of things after three days in the woods. There was a large rip down the sleeve of his shirt that exposed a pale shoulder and arm, part of his heaving chest.

"Son," called one of the officers. She was the one to take the first step forward. She was the oldest officer and her name was Morgan Jones. Henry Lascelles jumped when her foot snapped a twig and he waved his gun in the air and shouted something at them as he stepped back.

"What did he say?" asked the younger officer. 

"I think he's speaking French," said Jones. "Do you understand it?" 

Her young partner shook his head. 

"Henry?" Jones asked as she took another step toward the boy . "Henry Lascelles? Your parents have been looking for you. They're very worried. Can you put the gun down and come with us?"

Henry Lascelles squinted into the sun as he stumbled backward and fell over a branch. He landed on his back with a yelp, hugging the gun to his chest. He shouted at them again.

She caught it that time, what he said. "Je suis", then something she didn't understand, though the last word could have been coeur. Heart. 

"Henry. What's happened?" 

She took another cautious step forward and Henry Lascellles started to sob and she knelt down next to him. He gripped the gun tighter and squinted at her in suspicion. 

"Je suis" he said again, and something about a heart. 

"Are you hurt, Henry?" asked Jones. 

Behind him, Jones' partner radioed that sixteen year old Henry Lascelles had been found and with what appeared to be his father's missing gun. 

Jones helped Lascelles to his feet and slipped the gun from his hand. 

He wasn't handcuffed, but he was read his rights before he was asked if he had seen the other missing boy, Christopher Drawlight. 

"Oh, I shot him," said Lascelles. He looked down his hands and his finger twitched, like it pulled an invisible trigger. "But he's not there anymore." 

They were the last words, as it happened, that he spoke in English. 

His parents were at the station when he arrived and when Henry saw them, he shouted again at them the thing he had said in the woods. They had been rushing toward him but his father stopped when he heard and his mother took a moment for the words to sink in. French was not her first language as it was her husband's. They stood, each gripping the other's arm, and watched their son be taken back for questioning. 

Henry Lascelles would repeat this assertion, that he had shot Christopher Drawlight, several times over the course of the next few days. They, officers nor parents nor anyone, could get him to speak English, but his confession was recorded in French and given many times, despite the protests of his parents' lawyer, who Lascelles largely pretended not hear or understand. His confession was all he would say, besides the other thing that the officers had heard him say in the woods but had not been able to understand.

Once, Officer Jones asked Lascelles' father what it was that his son said, and he blanched. 

"It is nonsense," said Alexandre Lascelles. "My son is sick." 

But when the information was transcribed and translated for police records, it was there for all to see that sixteen year old Henry Lascelles said the same thing to nearly every question he was asked: I am the champion of the castle of the plucked eye and heart. 

The woods were combed many times over, but the body of Christopher Drawlight was never found. 

 

The woman's identity was protected as much as it could be. 

She had cut her hair before returning home and for the flight to England, she wore glasses and a large hat. 

But it wasn't possible, really, to hide her for long. There had been such commotion when she appeared in Italy, and so many vain attempts to hide her comings and coming as she recovered enough to return home, first at the hospital then at the Greysteel's. 

By the time Arabella Strange arrived in England, the reporters were there, but so were her brother and Emma Pole, both crying from the moment they saw her.  


She ran to them and was taken into two pairs of arms. 

"Welcome home," said Emma. 

"You too," said Arabella. 

Emma stayed with them that night at her brother's house, on an air mattress next to her bed, even though Arabella said it wasn't necessary. She was glad of it later though, when she woke and Emma was there. 

Her old homes had disappeared while she was in Italy, but that was fine with Arabella Strange. She did not want to go back to them without Jonathan. 

She bought all new things and made a room at her brother's while she waited to be ready to make a new home for herself. Sometimes, Emma was there. Sometimes, her brother. But she was not alone.

When Arabella Strange woke in the night, the sound of twinkling of music at her ears and a pain as if of nights' worth of dancing in her feet, she only had to call, or to open her door. There was always someone. 

 

There was a rainstorm in the second week of August. A very bad rainstorm; the worst of the summer by far. 

Segundus was soaked from carrying his things back and forth to Chldermass' car, as were Honeyfoot and Childermass. Their hair was stuck to their foreheads and their shirts plastered to their backs even after only a handful of trips to the car. 

They dripped water onto the floor, but Mrs Pleasance was kind enough not to say anything about it, or about the muddy footprints on the stairs. 

Mrs Pleasance gave them towels to dry off with and fed all the men a large lunch to say goodbye to Segundus and before he left, she pulled him aside. 

"This is what you really want?" she asked. 

"I do," said Segundus. "Very much." 

She did not offer this time to keep his room because she knew that he wasn't coming back. Mrs Pleasance gave him a kiss on the cheek and wished him luck, but she could tell that he was as happy as she had ever seen him. 

The house on campus that Gilbert Norrell had once owned had been left to John Childermass in his will and Childermass had wasted no time in selling it back to them, which was as well because three days after he did, it disappeared. But by then, Childermass had already picked out another small house, a little further out. 

It was there that they drove to, and there Segundus took his things. 

Between the two of them, they did not have nearly enough to fill even such a small place, but Childermass had bought a couch and bed for them and a table for the kitchen. It was enough to start a new life. 

They stripped their wet clothes off once the boxes were in the house and spent the afternoon in the new bed bought just for them, big enough for two people. It was the first time either of them could say that they had owned such a thing.  


In the evening, they roused themselves and made dinner and unpacked Segundus' things. 

In the living room, there was a shelf for books, and Segundus set his copy of The Children's Book of English Magic in it's final home. 

 

About a mile from the school, there was a very small house. It was one story only, made up of a handful of rooms. It had a garden in the back and a smaller one in the front. 

Two men lived there, in the handful of rooms. 

One of them, John Segundus, woke each day in this little house, in a bed just big enough for two men and he and went the mile to the school where he worked again.

John Childermass had a list of things to do in many places. Just as one thing was taken care of, another took its place; sometimes two or three He went where he was needed, but as often as not at the end of a day, he was found there in the small house, having dinner across from John Segundus at their table, helping him grade papers in their living room, or sleeping with him in their bed. When Childermass was not there, it was known that there was where he would return to, as soon as he was able and it was known that John Segundus knew where he was.

England was a magical place again. Not as it had been long before either of the men were born, but it bloomed nonetheless, and it bloomed around two men named John. 

Magic was the business of the two men in the house; the teaching of it, the work of it. It was well know that John Childermass and John Segundus were to whom English men and women came for questions for magic, whom their sons and daughters wanted to be taught by. And it was known where they were found and they would, as often as possible, be found together .


End file.
